


Le Grand Départ

by QuasiSybarite



Category: Noir (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/F, Friendship, Romance, Shoujo-ai, Yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 02:16:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1451773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuasiSybarite/pseuds/QuasiSybarite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the series: Mireille has helped Kirika to escape the underworld and start life anew. Amidst Mireille's struggle with letting go, Chloe appears, alive, though far from well. Mireille is forced to confront her feelings for both of the other saplings and is also forced to face the hidden truths of her past. Mireille/Chloe.</p><p>All comments and critiques are welcome and encouraged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loss and Finding

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Although I tend to think of Mireille and Kirika together when I reflect on Noir I decided that given a chance to create a continuation of the series Chloe deserves an opportunity to find the love, acceptance, and approval she so desperately sought, and I thought this territory was worth exploring. Perhaps not the typical post-series plot-line but that's what I think lends it a bit of energy.
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read. I've done everything I can to make it worth your while. - QS

CHAPTER 1 - Loss and Finding

Mireille sat alone, sipping coffee at her preferred sidewalk café. She skimmed through a magazine while deciding whether to head home or to distract herself with another stint of window shopping.

Three weeks? Mireille asked herself. Or had it been four? Ever since Kirika left, time passed in stretches of melancholy separated by fleeting bursts of manic distraction. But she also admitted that some subtleties of life had begun to restore themselves; an afternoon cup of coffee tasted good once again and shopping for clothes now proved satisfying enough to ward off the doldrums of her loneliness for several hours.

Her reverie shattered as she heard the groan of the iron-legged café chair across from hers being drawn over centuries-old cobblestones. She raised her eyes and her limbs jolted at who she saw now taking the seat opposite hers. Her mind raced, doubting her senses and her sanity. She became aware of her own involuntary apoplexy, hearing small halted sounds escaped from her throat through her gaping mouth.

Mireille was now certain- Chloe sat before her looking ragged, emaciated, unkempt.

The girl's head hung low, her filthy hair concealed her eyes from Mireille's scrutiny. On the pavement beside her lay a satchel layered in dust and grime.

"Y-You... Chloe. Chloe?" Mireille managed to stammer, reigning in her disbelief as it caved to the undeniable reality in front of her. "You- we thought you were dead." Mireille thought more and added, "You were dead. You had no pulse. You weren't breathing. I-It's-"

Chloe raised her head enough for her eyes to openly contact Mireille's. Her pale, sunken face seemed to convey the sorrow and privation she was certain to have endured making her way from the Pyrenees to Paris in her condition. Her voice sounded thin and weary as she responded, "I thought that too, but it seems we were both wrong."

Mireille began to strategize. She dipped her right hand into her handbag, settling her fingers around the grip of her pistol, reasoning that Chloe had sought her out for revenge.

"Where is she?" Chloe asked.

Mireille understood who Chloe had to have been referring to. She felt her throat ache a bit as she said, "She needed to quit. She left. She's finishing school so she can live a better life."

"She hurt you," Chloe said. A corner of her mouth rose, signaling some kind of satisfaction.

Mireille felt her eyes narrow in an involuntary response to Chloe's expression. "Why are you here?"

Chloe took some time to reply, as if choosing her words with care before speaking. "Where else can I go?" She looked down, gazing into her lap as she added, "Even now I scarcely think I have one thing left to live for."

"Right." Mireille smirked and pulled her Walther from her purse and settled it in her lap, concealed beneath the table, its muzzle trained on Chloe. "And what brings you to me?"

"I thought about this meeting for some time- Ever since I woke up, actually. I understood that you would be suspicious." Chloe looked up again to meet Mireille's gaze with her weary, sunken eyes. Her speech seemed stilted, nervous as she said, "I am here to apologize. I want your forgiveness- the way you forgave her." She then hastily added, "And her sins against you and your family are far graver than my own. I am not here for revenge. I hold nothing against you."

Mireille relaxed a bit; whether malicious or beneficent Chloe had always acted with complete sincerity. Mireille's tactical assessment of Chloe began to morph from apprehension to a thread of pity. Already sure of the answer, she asked, "Where are you staying?"

"It took hours, but I finally found you. I just got here this morning. I have nowhere else to be."

"Chloe..." Mireille started, reluctant but compelled to allay her own guilty feelings with a measure of charity. "Chloe, you look like you need some rest. I'll let you rest at my place."

Chloe's features lit up, almost beaming with obvious relief. Her eyes shone with impending tears.

"Don't get the wrong idea." Mireille looked away and explained, "I'm only offering because no hotel within a hundred kilometers would possibly trust a room to a ragamuffin like you. And if They find out you're alive, and in such pathetic condition, you're going to be dead by midnight. Since you foolishly decided to contact me in public, They are now, no doubt, well aware of your presence." Mireille chuckled, "Didn't you think at all? Didn't you realize that They're watching me all the time?" She discretely slid her pistol back into her handbag and rose, now smiling; full of satisfaction that for once she was in control of the situation and Chloe was the one at her mercy. "Follow me before my sense of charity expires."

Chloe immediately stood and picked up her bag.

Through the eight block walk back to her apartment Mireille found she needed to slow her pace and stop a few times as she led Chloe. The depth of the other's physical weakness became obvious. How had she survived? Mireille continued to wonder. Once at the building, Mireille almost offered to take Chloe's bag as she glanced over her shoulder, seeing the decrepit yet strong-willed girl struggle with the exertion of the four flights that led to the top.

Once Chloe passed into the apartment, Mireille locked the door and leaned against it. Chloe's back was to her. She debated whether or not to simply trim this nuisance thread with a nine millimeter lead slug. Chloe was weaker and more vulnerable than ever. This may be the best opportunity to remove the problem, Mireille pondered. Then she began to process the exact same facts from a different, less ruthless viewpoint. Chloe was more vulnerable than ever. Chloe trusted her; trusted her completely. Could she bring herself to do it? Would she convince herself later that it was out of mercy? Mireille felt her chest ache a bit as she thought more of why Chloe was there.

She stepped away from the door and into the apartment to find Chloe standing, gazing out the window into the golden haze of Parisian rooftops gilded by the late afternoon cast. "You should sit. You look exhausted," Mireille said. She then considered her immediate revulsion at Chloe's filthy condition and thought better of the plan. "Actually, why don't you get cleaned up? You look like you've needed a shower for weeks. The bathroom is this way," she said, gesturing.

Chloe picked up her bag and turned to follow, wearing what seemed a bright expression despite her obviously poor health. She then stopped in front of Mireille and bowed her head, saying, "Thank you... I mean this sincerely. Thank you for your hospitality."

Mireille found the display unsettling but managed to feign a slight smile which seemed to be what the other needed most in response. She gestured through the bathroom door and said, "Just drop your things on the floor in front of the sink. We'll get rid of them later. I'll see what I may have for you to wear while you're getting yourself cleaned up." She added, neglecting to conceal her disgust, "Your clothes are beyond ruined."

Mireille then rounded the corner to her bedroom. Once she heard the door close and the water start, she began sifting through the top drawer of her dresser, searching for some clothes that might fit Chloe.

While rummaging she happened across a few of Kirika's things and paused. Unable to set aside her feelings, she closed her eyes for a moment and allowed herself a brief exploration into the topic she had been avoiding for weeks. She found herself split on the issue; half of her angry that Kirika left her alone, the other half happy that one who meant so much to her was making her escape from the horrible, dark, descending spiral that had defined the previous chapter of their lives.

She had to tell Kirika about Chloe, she thought. Kirika needed to know that Chloe's death was something for which she needed no atonement. Would she return then? Mireille swallowed, careful to steady her thoughts and keep her feelings in check. Was that the main reason all along? Her guilt over Chloe?

A clamor resounded through the wall. Mireille dropped the t-shirt she had been clutching and whipped around the corner. She pushed through the bathroom door to see Chloe crumpled naked on the stone floor of the shower. She rushed to open the shower door and reached out to shut off the water. "Chloe? Chloe?"

The sopping tangle of ribs and feeble limbs responded, "I'm alright. I lost my balance." She struggled to conceal herself and rise.

"Stop," Mireille ordered. "You're too weak for this." She sighed, "Let's get you dried off."

Chloe turned her back to Mireille and growled, "I'm okay. I just lost my balance. I didn't even get to soap-up."

Mireille sighed again, "I suppose I could let you kill yourself. But I don't want to dispose of the dirty corpse I'm sure to find in my shower if I let you have your way." Mireille noticed Chloe's shoulders jostle through a few convulsive waves of shivers. She heard Chloe desperately trying not to let her teeth chatter, still facing away, hiding her weakness as best she could but failing.

Never before, even the dozen or more moments when a person begged Mireille to spare their life had she seen someone so pitiable and vulnerable. She pulled off her boots and shed the rest of her outer clothes, casting them beyond the door and out into the corner of the bedroom. Now stripped to her underwear, she crouched into the shower and reached around Chloe's elbows to lift her. "Come on. Stand up. Let's get this over with."

Chloe's atrophied body weighed disturbingly less than Mireille expected. With Mireille's support, Chloe managed to stand; shaking, shivering, and tearing.

Mireille turned on the shower and reached up to angle the nozzle to better focus the hot water on her quivering charge. She handed Chloe soap and waited for her to lather it onto herself. After a frustrating half minute, Mireille grabbed the soap and did the work herself to speed up the whole unpleasant procedure. She distanced herself by likening it to cleaning dishes rather than playing an unwilling nurse to a crying, shamed, and weakened adversary.

The self-delusion faded too soon as Mireille's hands witnessed the girl's sickly boniness. She felt her throat tighten and tried to hurry more, fighting to ignore Chloe's ever intensifying, heaving sobs. "We're almost done," Mireille said, unsure whether to reassure Chloe or herself. She dug her fingers into the tangles of Chloe's hair and scrubbed, trying her best to rid the other's burgundy locks of the nits and dirt they surely held.

Once convinced she had scoured the other thoroughly, Mireille rinsed both of them free of suds and then quickly stepped out of the shower. She grabbed her towel and wrapped it around Chloe as fast as she could before shedding her own soaked underthings and tying another towel around herself.

Chloe remained motionless, facing away, continuing to sob.

"Come on, dry off so we can put clothes on you and sit you down somewhere before you fall over again."

After a moment, Chloe seemed to compose herself and complied, patting herself with the towel with obvious frailty but equally obvious earnestness to do as Mireille insisted.

Back in the bedroom, Mireille began to hand the t-shirt from before to Chloe and then stopped herself, reconsidering the choice.

As though having read Mireille's thoughts, Chloe asked, "Could I borrow something that's yours? I can't wear anything that... isn't yours."

Mireille closed her eyes and nodded, fully empathetic to the situation. She gave Chloe her seldom-worn rose silk pajama set and then turned to search for something for herself. She settled on her usual oversized white pinpoint shirt and slipped into it quickly. She took a moment to tie her still damp hair back and turned to find Chloe curled atop the blankets of her bed.

Where will she sleep tonight? Mireille asked herself. The sight reminded her of Kirika's first day in France, most of it spent sleeping-off jet lag; though this curious little guest had it worse- a feeble pallor comparable only to people with advanced terminal illness.

She'll sleep in the bed tonight, Mireille reasoned, just like the other time. But tomorrow, she determined, she would buy a sofa.

# # #

Mireille had awoken just after sunrise and secreted away to buy some breakfast to bring back for herself and her malnourished guest. Once back, she set two cups of coffee and a few of the pastries out and then went to wake the other.

She peered down to find Chloe must have slept soundly for her body appeared to be in the same position it had been the evening before.

"Chloe? Wake up. You need to eat."

Chloe made no motion to indicate a response.

Mireille sighed and reached down to shake her into wakefulness.

Chloe stirred and gently clutched Mireille's hand. With her eyes still closed she pulled Mireille's hand close to her face and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. She then sighed, "Thank you. Thank you, Mireille." She released her hold and began to rise, edging to the side of the bed.

Mireille dismissed the strange contact and shifted her focus instead to helping Chloe stand, given her extreme frailty the day before. She hovered close by as the other made her way toward the table where breakfast sat waiting.

Chloe helped herself to a seat and waited for Mireille to sit before reaching to one of the croissants and tearing a piece from it with the obvious avarice of bone-deep hunger.

Mireille tried to encourage her. "Eat as much as you can. Put butter on everything. You're sickly. You could stand to gain ten kilos." She took a few sips of her coffee and looked up from her newspaper, reflexively pleased to see Chloe eating with hedonistic abandon; a sweet pastry in her left hand and a savory one in her right and crumbs from both stuck to her mouth and cheeks.

Once Chloe appeared to have filled up and began sipping the now lukewarm coffee, Mireille decided to sate her own appetite for knowledge. "So you just woke up? At the manor? When?"

Chloe cleaned her face with one of the paper napkins that Mireille had left folded next to her plate. "I woke up. I don't know when it was. It was night. I thought about you."

Mireille felt her brow knit. "Why me?"

"I need to apologize to you. Your forgiveness is everything to me." Chloe drew another sip of coffee. "Now I've become an orphan- just like you. Surely this was not the plan, but it happened this way nonetheless."

Mireille turned from Chloe to look toward the window, finding the outside world easier to confront. "Well then, I forgive you. So you're welcome to go impose somewhere else." She regretted her words after hearing them out loud. "I didn't mean that." She turned to Chloe to find her in an obvious state of upset. "Look, I-I'm... I'm just a solitary kind of person. I don't know how to... This isn't something I'm used to."

"You don't have to explain," Chloe said, apparent defeat in her voice. "I don't know why I'm here, why I'm alive. And I came to you- I thought it was right, proper. But it wasn't." Chloe stood and began stacking their plates. "My home is gone. Mistress Altena is gone. I thought there could only be one person that I could have been brought back for. And I thought all this time that it was you... But it doesn't really make any sense, now does it? It sounds even more foolish now that I've said it to you, out loud."

Mireille's impatience got the better of her. She stood and pushed Chloe back into her seat. She braced the other's shoulders and said, "Stop it. These emotional games won't work on me. I've had enough. I could kill you right now... So is that what you want? To trap me into finishing what she couldn't?"

Chloe's head sank. She trembled through some stifled tears, obviously trying to hide them from Mireille. "I'm sorry, Mireille. I don't want to make you mad." Chloe began to blubber, "I came here because I don't have anyone... anyone at all. I made it my mission, my purpose to come here, to come to you." Chloe looked up with what could have been a vague smile raising her cheeks a little as she continued, "And when you said she left you, I was- I was happy, because I thought it confirmed the reason I came back. I thought maybe there could be a place for me here. That maybe I was supposed to take her place." Chloe pleaded, "Please don't be upset with me. I won't mention it again..."

Mireille stood and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, increasing the pressure to her head in order to squash the ridiculous emotions that began to stir within her as she heard Chloe's story and continued, pitiable pleas. She swallowed and calmed, feeling like she had regained control. "Stand up," she ordered.

Chloe obeyed at once and rose from her chair to stand an arm's length away, facing Mireille. Tears continued to run down her bony cheeks and she sniffled, apparently trying to repress the last vestiges of her outpouring. She whispered, pleading, "I'm sorry, Mireille."

Mireille leaned back a bit, visualizing the sizing of Chloe's clothes. She reached out with her fingers to comb a semblance of neatness into Chloe's dark red mop of hair. "Well... you're stuck here until I get clothes for you." She took a step back and performed more mental measurements. "Let's figure out how I'll get rid of you one step at a time."

Chloe collapsed into the chair, folded her arms on the table and hid her face.

Mireille sighed, "If you're going to stay here, you need to learn when to take me seriously and when I'm making a joke."

Chloe looked up, her mouth quivering, her eyes glowing, desperate with hope.

Mireille rolled her eyes. "I'm not repeating it."

Chloe stood and reached both arms out as though to hug but to Mireille's relief seemed to stop herself. She returned her arms to her sides and lowered her head. "Thank you."

"And stop all of this bawling. You're dehydrated and you're making it worse."

Chloe bowed her head lower and said, "Yes, Mireille. Thank you, Mireille."


	2. Absolution and Recompense

CHAPTER 2 - Absolution and Recompense

"Excuse me, Madame."

Mireille turned to find a young blonde man had addressed her. He looked boyish and wore a well-fitted suit. He presented a creased piece of yellow paper. Offering a modest grin he said, "I wish you had dropped this. It's my number."

Mireille smirked and let out an amused huff. Well, he's somewhat more creative than most, she thought.

"You should keep it." His smile now seemed a bit strained as though he suddenly realized his tie were a bit too tight.

Mireille tried to let him down tactfully as he seemed nervous having put himself up to the overture. "I'm sincerely flattered, but I'm not available." How will this one take it? She asked herself.

He waved the piece of paper and nodded, saying, "I know- And that's why you need to take this." His tone remained polite, but his overall composure appeared fragile.

Mireille kept her outward self cool while inside she jumped to high-alert. The market was busy and therefore safe; too many people around them for either her or the other to risk causing a scene. She accepted the paper from the Soldats messenger.

Having done his duty, the man departed, vanishing around the first-possible corner as he made his way from Mireille's view.

She unfolded the note to find a telephone number and 'Chloe' written below it in fine script. At once, she exited the market, entered a public telephone booth and called.

The line rang twice and a man picked up. "We have an offer," was his greeting.

"I'm listening," Mireille replied, her blood beginning to heat. She consoled herself that at least these scoundrels have the decency to attempt some sort of dialogue before acting.

"That stray animal you took in. It belongs to us. We would like to have it back."

"And why would I do that?"

"Loose ends, Ms. Bouquet... Loose ends."

"And suppose I decide not to? What will happen then?"

"Your job at the manor is apparently unfinished. Either you finish it and maintain your professional reputation- and the measures of protection that have been extended to you- or actions will be taken."

Mireille felt her face tighten in anger at the audacity of the Soldat on the line. "Then plan on taking that action you speak of- I do not take orders from you."

The man on the line sighed, "I understand this must be a complicated time for you. I will get you the time you need to think rationally about the matter. I place great value in our coexistence; it's far better for all parties to avoid conflict on this. But understand that I cannot halt anything, only alter the timing of the inevitable." The call disconnected.

Mireille hung the receiver and walked back to the market, returning to her original mission to get food for the day.

Later, she returned from shopping with a bulging paper bag nestled in her arm. She entered the apartment and met with the sight of Chloe's feeble silhouette outlined by the stark light from the windows.

"Welcome back," Chloe said with a slight smile.

Mireille managed a smirk in response and then turned to close the door. Her feelings about her impromptu houseguest seemed to shift from hour-to-hour. Chloe was still Chloe, Mireille reminded herself. And now throughout her day she found herself often forced to recall once-discarded memories of their difficult history- the whole mélange of past and present kept Mireille on edge.

For those past three days, Chloe had kept an unobtrusive presence, always quiet and acquiescent as if she sensed Mireille's lingering flares of animosity and tried her best not to rile her. There never had been the slightest disruption from the girl- not even the inevitable contention for the bathroom as Mireille had often dealt with when Kirika had lived with her. But the thought of Chloe on tenterhooks caused Mireille further strain; the girl should be able to relax as she convalesces, Mireille thought.

"You were gone for a while," Chloe said. She approached and lifted the bag of groceries from Mireille's left arm and continued, "Though I knew not to worry, I will admit that I had- especially in the last hour." Chloe's expression turned more serious. She shook her head slightly, adding, "But I don't mind waiting for you. I'm alright by myself."

Mireille nodded. She smiled inwardly and admitted to herself that returning home indeed felt more pleasant with somebody waiting for her- even when it was Chloe. Three times now Chloe appeared to greet her, and every time wore a cheerful smile that Mireille felt awkwardly obliged to return.

The events from earlier in the morning and Chloe's last comment about being alright alone forced Mireille to immediately face her own sloppiness at having left the girl unguarded a few times in recent days. Though the threat from earlier bore no immediacy, if the Soldats knew that Chloe was staying with her and they also had to have known that if she stepped out then Chloe could be an easy target alone. Mireille would decide Chloe's fate- not them, she thought.

Determined to fix that problem, Mireille walked to the billiard table and reached into the corner pocket closest to where her printer sat. She pulled out a black satin pouch that contained one of her old pistols. She called out, "Chloe?"

The girl appeared at Mireille's side in an instant.

Mireille handed the pouch to her. "You're too weak to defend yourself right now. Whenever I go out, I want you to have this ready." She thought for a moment and asked, "You do know how to use it, right?"

Chloe loosened the drawstring that held the sack closed and reached in to draw out the gun. A smile began to appear on her face as she held the pistol close for a detailed inspection. "This is yours?" the question slipped from Chloe's mouth as a timid near-whisper. She looked silly, nearly cross-eyed as she scrutinized the gun with innocent fascination.

Mireille nodded, "I don't use it anymore but it's a fine piece; a Sig Sauer. I practiced with that for thousands of rounds- Maybe tens of thousands." Mireille felt herself grin as she reminisced further, "I learned to shoot with that one. Back then I thought it fit my hand perfectly... but then I had to get it repaired, and I tried the Walther as a stand-in. I liked it even better. I hardly needed to adjust- It turned out to be a perfect match for my hand, my natural aim." Mireille sighed, "That old one has been safely hidden for a while, almost forgotten. I suppose I was too young then to really know what I wanted. Maybe I just outgrew it."

Chloe continued to ogle the gun, grinning. "I will look after it for you."

"It's not that special," Mireille dismissed. "But I never could let it go. I couldn't bring myself to sell it. I'm a sentimental dolt sometimes. I kept it as a backup."

Chloe seemed entranced by the gun. Her fingers and eyes continued their careful exploration of the gun's contours. "But it is special. That's why you still have it. I will cherish it as well," she said, her voice soft yet ardent.

"Well, use it until you get your strength back at least. I know that small arms aren't your forte- Just as blades aren't mine, but you should be able to defend yourself with it."

"Mireille?" Chloe looked up with her hands curled around the pistol, now holding it close to her chest.

Mireille met Chloe's gaze, expecting more.

Chloe's eyes darted away. Her face tightened. She slipped the gun back into the satin pouch and then turned to scurry toward the bedroom.

After a confused moment, Mireille followed to find Chloe half curled on the bed. She wore a look of deep contentment; eyes closed, holding close the black satin pouch that contained the gun the way a child might cuddle a cherished toy. Mireille found herself shaking her head at the sight, and began to ponder what sort of disturbing childhood the girl had endured at the hands of the Soldats- certainly worse than her own, Mireille concluded.

Mireille lowered to sit on the edge of the bed. She gazed down to the other. Chloe's tranquil and blissful innocence forced a smile from Mireille as the beheld the sight. "You seem happy today. You must be getting your strength back."

"I'm just happy," Chloe said, her tone placid and her eyes still closed. "I'm happy here."

Mireille released a contented sigh of her own. Chloe wasn't simply Chloe any longer, she admitted. She decided that whatever happened between them in the past had less significance than the challenges they both had to face in the present. I have taken in a stray indeed, Mireille thought. "Well, those groceries you carried into the kitchen for me before aren't going to make their way into your scrawny little body without our help. Why don't you come help me make your food and then you can have a nap after lunch?"

Chloe seemed to pull herself out of her peaceful state. She opened her eyes and shifted to rest her fingertips on Mireille's forearm. "Mireille," she started, appearing to collect either the strength to say what she intended, or the words to say it precisely. Her expression turned serious and she said, "Please don't ever make me leave. I'll do anything you want. I'll do whatever you tell me."

Mireille's thoughts turned to the ultimatum from the Soldats. "I won't make you leave," she asserted with as much finality in her enunciation as she could muster.

Chloe's eyes glistened. She said nothing but gratitude shone in her expression.

Mireille rose turned to head for the kitchen. She decided to shift the conversation, finding that it forced her to consider their situation beyond the next several days; a topic she was not yet ready to address. "Come on. We need to get you back in shape... If you finish everything, I'll make my fiadone for you later for desert."

# # #

That evening, Mireille returned from the brisk early dusk, carrying their dinner in a paper bag. She stopped in the kitchen to get plates and glasses for their simple banquet of fast food. She had decided the fare's notoriety for inducing weight gain would help get some fat and muscle back onto Chloe's sickly frame faster and easier than finer foods would.

She joined Chloe and placed the plates before them. "I got five of these," Mireille started, placing two of the wrapped fried fish sandwiches onto Chloe's plate. "They aren't filling but they have a lot of calories so you should be able to eat several before you feel overstuffed."

Chloe unwrapped the first one and devoured it efficiently, neatly then moved on to the next. When she finished the second one, she looked to Mireille, grinning, appearing to expect something. After a moment, she proclaimed, "Done," and continued to beam, seemingly at her own accomplishment.

Mireille reached into the bag and got another sandwich. Chloe took it from her, and seized a giant bite while still removing the wrapper from the opposite side.

Mireille felt herself smile, almost charmed by Chloe's child-like transparency of purpose. Everything she did was to win approval- Mireille began to further understand the power that Altena must have had over the girl, and also began to accept that this power had been transferred to her. Chloe wanted someone to please; a leader- and it had become obvious that she had made her choice as to whom it would be.

"Also done," Chloe declared.

Mireille smiled and reached for another. "One more?"

Chloe nodded vigorously. "Please."

Mireille handed over the fourth sandwich and watched Chloe tear into it with ruthless efficacy. She understood now that Chloe must work best for rewards so she pondered what would be suitable. Once Chloe had finished the fourth sandwich, Mireille said, "You did well."

Chloe's eyelids drooped a bit. She wore a wide, contented grin.

"You had about eighteen-hundred calories in one meal." Mireille smirked. "Between that and ramping up your daily exercise we'll have you back to a healthy weight in no time." Mireille tipped the bag toward herself eying the lone remaining sandwich. She said, "If you can fit another you're welcome to it."

"Then what will you have?"

"I don't need to gain weight... Don't you like them?"

Chloe nodded, grinning. "Yes. I love them. They're very tasty."

"So you're full then?"

Chloe shook her head. "I don't want to steal your supper. You gave me so much already."

Mireille decided to end the experiment. She felt that she had confirmed her findings. She removed the wrapper from the last sandwich, pulled it into halves, and handed one to Chloe. "Since you've been so good at getting your calories today, I'll meet you half way. We'll share it."

Chloe smiled and nodded, accepting the food from Mireille. She devoured it a bit slower than the other ones, apparently having reached the limits of her stomach's capacity.

"Good job," Mireille said. She leaned back, folded her arms and asked, "Do you think you'll be okay here by yourself for a while?"

Chloe's mouth tensed. She said, "You're going out again?"

"Tomorrow. I have a lot to do."

Chloe took a moment to reply, "Alright then." She gave a slight nod. "Where will you go?"

Mireille played coy, stating, "I have to get some things. Maybe I'll pick up something for you while I'm at it."

Chloe's expression brightened. She wore a gleeful look that bordered on silly; childlike to the point Mireille found it almost unsettling. These were Chloe's naked feelings, she understood. Chloe could always be part child inside. It was perhaps all that survived the rigors of her Soldat upbringing; a small spark of her humanity that managed to persist.

# # #

Two more days passed with no further contact from the Soldats and Mireille had gotten a chance to buy Chloe some basic clothing as well as a few complete outfits put together from items that she found while touring the boutiques. Chloe's weight had increased, but far slower than Mireille had planned so most of the clothes still hung from the girl like messy bolts of cloth, though they all looked suitable enough for a walk on the avenues.

That afternoon, as Chloe tried on her new clothes, Mireille began to notice that the tension between them seemed even less than previous days. She continued to study Chloe's mannerisms and began to gain a greater sense of control over her. She always seemed willing to do whatever Mireille asked and exhibited a respectful sense of subordination without being meek or submissive; which stood out to Mireille as her favorite trait of Chloe's- she seemed to know her place and liked it.

"I like these shoes," Chloe said, extending a leg and pointing her toe as she gazed down. "They're light and they're stealthy."

"And that would be why they're called sneakers," Mireille quipped. She sat in the new sofa, delivered that morning. She scrutinized the clothing choices she made for the other in the gray light of the overcast through the windows. "And though they look cute, you shouldn't wear them with a dress."

"You think they're cute?"

"I picked them- Of course they're cute."

After a moment, Chloe asked, "What should I wear them with then?"

Mireille sighed. "You know nothing about fashion, do you?"

Chloe rolled her lips in and shook her head in a sheepish admission. "Not nearly as much as you- But I do like to dress up."

Mireille felt herself grin. Having an advantage over Chloe still felt as good as the day she came back. "Put on the jeans and the tunic if you're going to wear the sneakers- or you could leave the dress on and just put on the brown shoes."

"You said the sneakers are cute. I want to wear those."

Mireille rolled her eyes. "The dress is cute too."

Chloe froze. She paused for several seconds then looked down as though assessing herself and the dress. "So the brown shoes?"

Mireille nodded.

Chloe headed back to the bedroom and reappeared a few moments later in her completed outfit. She wore a demure smile. "So it makes me look cute?"

Mireille felt herself smirk, considering the results of her picks for the other. "It's a good outfit, yes... though you're just a sack of bones right now." Mireille rose from the sofa and picked up Chloe's new jacket as she went. She handed it to her and said, "Now put this on."

Chloe did as instructed and slipped into the outerwear.

Mireille grinned with satisfaction seeing the finished product of her shopping expeditions and of her ability to visualize the clothes so accurately when she had bought them. "Now you're ready to go out with me. Maybe tomorrow if it isn't raining."

"Go out? Where?"

"To find you a job. You're paying me back for all of this- Including the sofa."

Chloe stood, seemingly immobilized by the sentence. After a moment her mouth curved into a slight grin. She said, "I have a job. I hope that perhaps my new boss likes what I'm wearing to my interview. I wanted to impress her."

Mireille cracked a sardonic grin. Chloe was indeed trying her hardest to coexist, she thought. Little moments between them like these happened more frequently in recent days now that Chloe seemed to have more energy and their company had forced them to interact. Mireille felt she could actually see how hard Chloe continued to vie for her friendship, but it would not be something she could simply hand over.

Mireille had grown to trust her, but the girl's presence still upset her on some level. Vestiges of their past conflicts still reigned in the odd moments and seemed to keep them at an unbridgeable yet comfortable distance.

Mireille wondered; why though was Chloe so despicable? If measured in blood and pain, what harm had Chloe done to her other than a few wounds? Wounds like those heal, she thought. Mireille had fought with herself over the matter for days, confronting the realization that she had been grossly unfair to Chloe all along. Since their first meeting, Chloe had saved her far more times than she had ever caused her harm.

Given Chloe's current weakened state, Mireille often found pity and other, softer emotions overruling her irrational animosities. And how pitiable Chloe was: the girl was dead, Mireille recalled. Stabbed in the heart- right where the little bluish scar on her chest now lay. Yet she crawled back from death, declaring a clear understanding that her reason for being was to find Mireille and secure her forgiveness. Perhaps too much Grand Retour brainwashing at the hands of her Soldat masters?

"Mireille?" Chloe asked, now standing directly in front of her. Her countenance was serious. "I will pay you back for everything."

Mireille reflexively closed her eyes and smiled. "You don't need to worry about it. It was just me teasing you." She reached to Chloe's shoulder and squared how the girl stood so she could get another look at the ensemble she created. She grinned and said, "Let's go out for dinner tonight; treat ourselves."

Chloe's face lit up with excitement.


	3. Heartache and Contentment

CHAPTER 3 - Heartache and Contentment

Mireille spent another unproductive afternoon at her computer. She read news, browsed previews of winter fashions, and skimmed half-interesting articles while she continued to fret about the Soldats' ultimatum and the rapidly dwindling balances of her bank accounts. Even those looming issues seemed easier to overcome than mustering the courage to do what she had been struggling to do for days- to open her email program. She had not checked in a month, unwilling to subject herself to the potential torture of reading the messages Kirika was certain to have sent since she left.

Under the weight of these issues, Mireille felt less in-control than ever. She noticed herself procrastinating, spending, endlessly indulging for both Chloe and herself as a directionless escape, and all the while aptly avoiding the burden of responsibility. Everything compounded, became less manageable, careening toward a sudden stop at an uncertain time that seemed fast-approaching.

She looked down to her right where Chloe sat on the floor. The past two times Mireille used her computer, Chloe would seem to materialize in that spot; a contentedly quiet presence like a loyal pet not wanting to leave its master's side. She felt herself almost smile. Caring for Chloe had become the only part of her life she enjoyed, the only part where she knew she was in control.

As much as she accepted that Chloe's return could be ascribed to some outlandish medical anomaly, it seemed to Mireille, perhaps for the first time in her life, that forces greater than human comprehension may yet be at play and she was on the verge of fully bearing witness to them. Sarcastically, she hoped those mysterious forces might intercede and help to solve her current issues.

She turned back to her computer screen and exhaled. Regardless of how unpleasant re-establishing the contact may be, she had to tell Kirika: the _petite retour_ perched at her side was beyond what could simply be called 'big news' that she 'forgot to share.' Mireille drew a breath and opened her email program. Her stomach churned as she watched the inbox fill with unread messages from the past month; several of them from the address that Kirika said she would use.

"You're about to tell her aren't you?" Chloe asked. Her words hung in the stillness, even and calm. "I suppose you'd have to some time."

Mireille looked down to meet Chloe's stoic gaze.

Before Mireille could ask, Chloe answered, "What else would make you so upset about using your computer?"

Mireille looked back to the screen. "Why don't you get a chair so you can join me? You can write to her yourself."

"I have joined you. I'm happy right here."

Mireille huffed, "Well, you can't see the screen from there."

Chloe's tone gained a rare edginess as she replied, "I have no interest in seeing what you write to her or what she may have written back."

The girl's obvious tension upset Mireille more. Chloe had never been cross with her since her return. She retorted, "What's with that angry tone? I thought you just said you were happy?"

Chloe gave no response. Instead she turned her head to gaze toward the window.

Though Mireille found Chloe's unexpected moodiness unsettling, she chose to dismiss the girl's obstinacy. She kept herself from procrastinating further and opened the most recent message from Kirika, sent ten days earlier.

"Mireille, please, please reply. I need to hear from you. I realize now that I've hurt you again. It's been too many days, now weeks. I have so many regrets now. This is so hard, Mireille. If this continues, I'm afraid we won't be able to find our way back to each other..."

Mireille's throat ached. Her eyes blurred, welled with tears. The heart-sickness she had tried so hard for weeks to lose had found her again. This was what she dreaded most.

Then warmth enveloped her right calf. From her chosen place on the floor Chloe now held Mireille's limb in a timid embrace. Her cheek rested against Mireille's knee.

Mireille closed her eyes, prompting the few drops of stifled tears to run down her cheeks and drip from her chin. "Please let go of me."

She felt Chloe pull away at once. She continued her fight to contain her emotions, trying as hard as she could to think of anything other than Kirika's words while trying to stop whatever Chloe seemed insistent on starting.

Several quiet moments passed.

Chloe's voice broke the silence. It came as a near-whisper from next to Mireille's knee, "Mistress Altena used to talk about you... long before our first meeting."

Mireille swallowed, still trying to control her outward display of weakness and also to still the restless twinge in her chest.

"She spoke highly of you." Chloe paused again. She swallowed and continued, "And I will admit it often made me jealous. Though now I think I see why that was." Chloe's words grew stronger as she continued, but still remained below a full voice. "Most evenings she would write letters; to the council, to the old ones of the village, to members of the cadre in faraway places. Sometimes, when my tasks for the day were done, I would sit just like this while she worked. She would tell me when she had written about me, or her... or you- It was always about us in some way.

Only now that I have returned do I wish I had paid more attention. I may have understood sooner. I now see that her plan was so clever, so shrewd, such a true test of faith that none of us could have ever figured it out or tainted the outcome."

Mireille sniffled, her awakening curiosity helping to further restore her composure. "What do you mean?"

"All along, I thought that she was Noir and you and I were vying to be at her side. But it's obvious that was misdirection. You are the true Noir. It was no accident that my final trial was between me and her... and not the two of us. Altena's wisdom is unquestionable. Perhaps even the trials are so well crafted that they have not yet concluded? We may never know.

But you are the strongest, the independent one- you were all along. Altena left you in the wilderness and you succeeded; a first-rate killer without the benefit of the training that she or I had, and also gifted with the will to lead.

In hindsight it is clear. Your family died for good reason. If she had given up on you then you would not have been spared. Instead, the way she handled it assured that you would succeed completely on your own."

Chloe sighed and added, "I was arrogant and naïve then. Too much so to notice. But now ask yourself: Who decided to get as far away from you as she could go? And who struggled through unnumbered miles to be at your side? This must be the greatest trial of them all- no one but God and the three of us are left to steer the outcome, and this is what happened. Even with the manor in ruins; if this would be the trial, then this is the result. And it is undisputable."

Mireille looked down to meet a now familiar admiring gaze from Chloe. She regarded the other for a few moments, still digesting everything she had just heard, still weighing the words and the facts they seemed to support.

Chloe turned her eyes down and folded her arms before saying, "You will let her know- And she would be wise to stay away, though I know she won't be able to... But I am ready." Her voice broke as she added, "I know you will do what is best."

Mireille looked back to the message, now wracked with frustrating confusion. She refused to subject herself to further pain and declined to read the rest. She drew a breath and before she could stop herself she clicked Reply and started typing:

"Chloe is alive. You did not kill her. She wants you to know that she forgives you. She came to me a few days ago. She will be fine.

Know in your heart that we are fine and please let go- please let go of all of this. Live a new life full of peace. I did everything possible to pull you from this terrible darkness. Please find a way to forget everything- the way you forgot everything awful about your past when we first met: do it again. Please try to find your own peace."

Mireille sent the reply before she could think enough to edit or take back any of what she said. She released a heavy sigh, feeling a measure of relief, having now faced and accomplished one of her most difficult responsibilities. She glanced to her side and the conspicuous absence of Chloe dissolved her moment of relief. By reflex she called out, "Chloe?" while scanning the room.

"You told her about me," came from over the half-wall that defined the bedroom. "She will come here."

Mireille rose and approached the place from where Chloe's voice had emanated. She stepped up into the bedroom to find the other curled atop the covers, back turned, sniffling as though fighting to squelch tears with her limbs wrapped around Mireille's pillow.

"This isn't easy for me either," Mireille groused, regretting her tone after the words had already been released. She lowered to sit on the edge of the bed, her back facing where Chloe lay. "I'm sorry." Mireille sighed and continued, "It must hurt a lot- knowing that the one who killed you is driving me to tears."

Chloe gave no response.

Mireille slipped out of her boots and quipped, "If you're going to lie here and mope in my bed, could you at least have the courtesy to leave some room for me? I've got plenty of my own brooding to do."

"I'm sorry," Chloe whispered between sniffs. She released Mireille's pillow and slid it back to where it normally sat and then rolled to the opposite edge of the bed.

Mireille slid atop the covers to lie on her back and stare at the ceiling, trying in vain to clear her mind enough to process anything with fairness.

The thoughts of Kirika were as inescapable now as they were on the night she had left. At that time, Mireille had forced herself to be nonchalant about the whole thing knowing that Kirika would not have felt free to leave if she had known how Mireille truly felt. There had been a few casual words of good-bye and an awkward kiss on the cheek followed with a quick wave and a convincing smile; Mireille had made certain that nothing that would have hindered Kirika from heading forward toward her new, better life on the other side of the planet- A clean escape from the underworld for a person who had never really existed.

Now the memory of that parting scene lay in direct contrast to Mireille's newest complication. Kirika had maintained a distance the whole time; so broken on the inside that she could not express herself emotionally in any way. So opposite Chloe, thought Mireille.

Chloe communicated clearly and in so many ways; with her words, posture, movement, and touch. Whether pressing the point of a dagger into your throat or placing a reverent kiss on the back of your hand, Chloe's actions and their intent resounded with naked sincerity.

Mireille swallowed as she began again to confront her own thick-headedness and now felt guilty in how she had treated Chloe so far by shunning her many attempts to connect. She knew Chloe would not shyly leave a note hoping it may be found later; she would say what was on her mind or do what she felt stated her feelings- Mireille found that emotional frankness perplexing and charming at the same time.

She thought back to when she read Kirika's email. Chloe knew how much it hurt and offered comfort. How callous she was to brush the girl aside like that, Mireille chided herself. Again, she gathered her resolve and addressed another situation that she needed most to control, fighting to bring her life back into order before everything crashed. "Chloe?"

"Yes?" Chloe rolled onto her back, now facing the ceiling as well.

"I-I've been selfish. Whatever I'm feeling now is just- It's unimportant... You've been through hell, haven't you?"

"No matter. It's was my mission. The first one I ever gave to myself."

Mireille felt the sneaking, timid presence of Chloe's arm against her own. Touch is so important to this girl, she thought. Mireille continued to allow the contact and said, "I suppose you used to get all of your orders from Altena."

"You have never taken orders," Chloe said, her tone denoting veneration. Mireille felt the warmth of Chloe's cheek against the sleeve of her shirt. "That's why I'm certain you were the true Noir all along."

Mireille's thoughts focused on Chloe's last declaration. It made some sense after all. Poor Kirika could have been the disposable one; the impostor influence that stood as the ultimate test for each of them. Altena had to have known Kirika's mind was shattered. And why else would Kirika have been told to seek her? Perhaps knowing she was unable to find her way on her own? Ultimately to bring Mireille and Chloe together? To prove their place by playing off their differences?

If love can kill, then hatred can save; the very hatred that nearly killed Chloe had ultimately saved all three of them. Kirika was free. Chloe, though weakened, was at least alive. And Mireille was still- Her thoughts hit a dead end.

She drew a breath and said, "I don't know if I'm ready."

"Hmm?" Chloe had managed to snuggle closer still while Mireille had been lost in thought.

"I'm not ready to deal with any of this."

"You are ready. And I will gladly face this trial with you. It is our destiny."

"This isn't about trials anymore."

"Preordination is natural for someone with a bloodline as blue as yours. You were born into power. It was never taken away from you- It couldn't have been. You will always have it."

"I never had any power in any of this. Neither have you. We've both made fools of ourselves time and time again."

"We both faced tests that were meticulously planned to exploit our weaknesses. You emerged from yours alive and victorious. I did not."

Chloe's admission made Mireille's throat tighten with grief, remembering when they carried Chloe's limp corpse, remembering how she straightened the girl's lifeless limbs and smoothed her clothes out of reverence for the tragedy while Kirika wept. She pulled her left arm free and raised it up to draw it around Chloe, now thinking of nothing but the flash of elation that this discarded, simple little soul had returned and deserved the best, most unambiguous welcome she knew how to give. Chloe responded without hesitation, nestling close and resting her head atop Mireille's shoulder. After a few more still moments of allowing herself to become more comfortable with this new level of physical contact, Mireille asked, "The other side... do you remember any of it? What was it like? Did time pass? Did you just black out and then wake up?"

"It was like this." Chloe drew a languid breath and released it, then continued, "Peaceful. Warm. No cares. Everything forgiven. Just bliss." Chloe's body tensed and relaxed like a sunning cat stretching mid-nap. "I will admit that I was disappointed to have returned... But then I realized the reason why and my misgivings vanished. And I am here at last."

Mireille let some minutes pass allowing herself a measure of comfort, no longer deluding herself that this quiet time of closeness was solely for Chloe's benefit. She had never before allowed herself this sort of contact with another person, always keen to maintain the safety of distance, but Chloe's eagerness to reach out; her clingy demeanor had bridged the divide and pulled Mireille into pleasant new territory.

"Do you like this?" Mireille asked, still unsure of her own assessment.

"To me it's heaven." Chloe draped an arm across Mireille's middle and held closer to her for a few moments before relaxing. "Thank you for this."

Mireille snugged her arm around Chloe's shoulder in response. She kept her eyes closed and indulged in the simple, affirming pleasure of being so cherished by another. But the comfort soon thinned. Painful feelings resurfaced as if her conscience would not allow her the primal solace of holding another. She had to confront another reality that she had been avoiding.

"They contacted me a few days ago. They want me to hand you over to them."

Chloe's breathing slowed.

"Of course I decided instead to keep you for myself."

Chloe released a deep breath. Mireille felt the other's arm tighten around her middle and relax.

"They said they'd give me time to make up my mind... But I don't know how much longer they'll allow this to go on before they come for you- For both of us."

Chloe's response was a dreamy whisper, "We will be ready. I'm certain."

Despite the other's contagious serenity, Mireille could not let go of her misgivings. "This whole fiasco, the Soldats, Noir, you, me, her... It can't be right."

"But it is," Chloe said, just above a whisper. "The ritual happened as intended. I was reborn and you cleansed my wretched body. You purified me. And I am grateful." Chloe cuddled closer against Mireille and sighed, "I feel great joy."

"Please, you're making me out to be messianic. It's unbecoming. I have trouble taking you seriously sometimes..." Mireille felt flustered, overwhelmed. She eased away from Chloe and sat up. She swiveled to the edge of the bed and stared at a square of late afternoon sun peeking around the corner of the room divider while contemplating everything.

"Why is this about me?" she asked, and then elaborated, "Why would I be a reason for anyone to come back from the brink of death?"

From behind her, Mireille heard Chloe recount, "Because our trial was to overcome jealousies. It pitted us against one another. She was a catalyst that provoked the strongest possible reaction from each of us, to heighten the challenge. I grew to believe this every moment of my journey closer to you."

Mireille felt Chloe shift. She felt the other's arms wrap around her waist from behind. Chloe said, "I hope that you will continue to tolerate me. Thank you again, Mireille."

Mireille stood, freeing herself from the insistence of Chloe's contact. She picked up her boots and stepped down from the bedroom. She felt driven to escape. She stopped to glance back and said, "Get yourself ready." She turned to the living area and proceeded toward the windows. "We're going for an early dinner tonight. Your weight is still low." She stopped at the sofa and sat to pull her boots on.

"Have you decided on a wine?" Chloe asked, only her eyes and upward visible from above the top of the room divider.

Mireille's eyebrows rose as she anticipated an explanation.

The top of Chloe's head dipped behind the wall. After a few moments, her voice carried from around the corner, declaring, "You forget that I can read your thoughts. You're debating if you'd pair me with a Cabernet Sauvignon or a Chenin Blanc." Chloe entered the living room, approaching in one of the fancier new outfits Mireille had bought for her. She gave a small grin and added, "I'll be the main course someday. Why else would you be so obsessed with stuffing my face all the time?"

Mireille felt her mouth curve into an involuntary smile. "Actually It's because I could get an accurate x-ray image of you by asking you to step in front of a candle. If you were to turn sideways you'd vanish- You're practically two-dimensional."

Chloe chortled through a fit of giggles. "No... I'm almost back to my normal weight."

Mireille's smile broadened as she recognized a rare feeling; that she had no need to force herself to speak in literal terms with Chloe. The girl's sense of humor was much closer aligned to Mireille's than that of anyone else she had experienced. Perhaps further evidence that their awkward reunion could be as proper and preordained as Chloe felt it was, thought Mireille. "Well, if I had to guess, I'd say you're still six kilos under."

Chloe approached Mireille and clasped her fingers, her expression serious. "If you change your mind... Please have me with the Cabernet."

Mireille smirked. "Agreed." She pulled free of Chloe's touch while maintaining a smile.

Chloe looked down and said, "Thank you for before. I know I repulse you and that was very nice of you to pretend that I don't."

Mireille looked toward the windows, avoiding the discomfort of contacting Chloe's eyes. "Well, maybe I'll be persuaded to keep pretending if you stop thanking me." Mireille added, "Who knows... Maybe I'll pretend again later if you eat a big enough supper tonight." She looked back, satisfied to meet the other's astonished gaze for a few seconds before she decided to share, "And I should thank you. You gave me an idea about our issue with the Soldats- They will face the true Noir."


	4. Missteps and Strides

CHAPTER 4 - Missteps and Strides

"Yes?"

"You gave me the time to decide. I thank you for that courtesy."

"And?"

"She belongs to me."

"This will be difficult."

"It doesn't have to be. You can choose to leave her alone."

"She knows too much and too many. It will never be accepted that she can-"

"She is not a threat to anyone except herself. The girl is not well. She is unsound."

"..."

"Just leave her to me. I will look after this damaged contrivance of yours and we can have that coexistence that you prized so much when we last spoke."

"She is Altena's doing, not ours."

"And then so am I. So is my family."

"..."

"..."

"Perhaps you would be willing to meet? To discuss things in person?"

"Why would I?"

"Shall we say coexistence again? Something we both want. I have an offer. A private offer. An honorable offer."

"..."

"Perhaps you could view it as a way to solve our common dilemma. You're no stranger to contract work. This should be easy for you."

"Where?"

"I'll send the information to you."

The call ended and Mireille returned the receiver to its hook. She had kept her eyes on Chloe the whole time, watching through the windows of the phone kiosk as the girl sat on a bench a few meters away amid the cool white autumn sunshine. She left the booth and walked over to Chloe.

The girl looked up at her presence with the tiny smile Mireille had come to enjoy beholding. To her the innocuous gesture had the power to make her forget about her sins. It made her feel as though she actually deserved the luxury of basking in the pleasance of another's adoration, even if just for a moment. Mireille could not help but to return the smile whenever she faced it.

"The call went well?"

"Yes, perfectly," Mireille said, stretching the truth. She shifted the topic, hoping to avoid further exploration of the matter. "Let's go to the market and get what we'll need to make dinner. We have plenty of time so browse a bit. Pick whatever you like."

# # #

Hours ago they had finished their dinner. Mireille sat on the sofa propped against the armrest closest to the windows. She stewed about the possible meeting with the Soldats leader while Chloe lazed across the rest of the couch with her soles curved against the outside of Mireille's thigh.

It could be a setup, Mireille knew. Facing a possible trap from the Soldats without the assurance of Kirika's uncanny skill left Mireille well outside of where she felt confident in victory. She knew that Chloe was deadly as well, perhaps second only to Kirika, but the girl's mental and physical condition seemed too fragile for the tasks they were sure to face.

Presently the girl seemed to be having another of her odd spells. She had been cossetting the pistol that Mireille had given to her days before; removing its slide, spring, and barrel, then reassembling it, cocking and de-cocking the empty gun over and over for nearly half an hour.

"We'll practice tonight," Mireille said while turning to watch Chloe's ceaseless cycle of pistol handling. "You need to get familiar with that if you're going to use it."

"I am," Chloe responded, her fingers still busy with their repeated cycle of tear-down, assembly, cock, and de-cock.

"Well, another way to get familiar with that is to point it, fire it, and hit what you're pointing at over and over again," Mireille jibed. "I haven't shot in over two months. We'll both need to be at our best. We'll go into action soon, I'm sure."

"I'll have no trouble handling myself against them," Chloe said, her tone flat and matter-of-fact. She punctuated the phrase with a modest smile.

Mireille wondered; does Chloe not realize how out of sorts she still is?

A few moments passed with only the snap and clack of Chloe's drill filling the silence. The repetitions then stopped and she asked, "Why didn't you just hand me over to them? When they contacted you?"

Mireille knew she had buried the true answer deep, hoping never to reveal the uncomfortable notion to herself or to Chloe. She found it easier to tease rather than search for the real answer. "Economics really. They offered to pay by the kilo. I need time to fatten you up- higher profit."

Chloe gave a wry grin. "Then why did you buy me all of these expensive clothes? If profit is your motive?"

Mireille sighed. The burden of her worries left her little patience for banter. "I don't feel like playing these games right now."

"Why did you answer my question like that if you didn't want to play?"

"You're right," Mireille admitted, hoping to have dodged the question.

"So then why don't you just give me to Them?"

Mireille felt her shoulders sink as she sighed again. She tried to put the issue to rest by saying, "Part of you is touching me and I'm tolerating it. Isn't that enough of an answer for you?" Mireille regretted her tone after the words left her mouth. She cursed herself for her obviously faltering control. Chloe did nothing to deserve her shortened temper, she knew.

She felt Chloe's feet withdraw. The girl shuffled to sit upright and lean against the other armrest, leaving a wide space between Mireille and herself. She held her pistol in her lap and looked forward. "You'll probably be mad about this too, but... I'm concerned about you," Chloe said.

Mireille closed her eyes, knowing that Chloe's distress was well-founded. She did her best to halt the complicated interaction, trying to keep Chloe's mind clear enough to face the potentially serious situation in their immediate future. "You don't need to worry about me."

Chloe's voice dropped to a timid murmur as she said, "I am blessed to be with you." She added, "And I see you're in torment - I will worry."

Mireille clamped her eyes tighter in a half-hearted impulse to hide from the situation. "Please stop." She took a moment to gather her thoughts and convey them in an appropriate, rational tone. "Neither of us can afford to waste our energy with this devotional nonsense. We need to be killers if we want to survive- killers and nothing else." Mireille opened her eyes and looked to Chloe.

The other nodded, looking forward, as if accepting Mireille's guidance.

"Since you're still weak, you'll need to handle yourself with that gun. Use it to make sure no one gets close enough to where strength or nimbleness matter." Mireille rose and continued, "Let's go now. The sun has been down for two hours- It's not like I'll be able to sleep anyway."

# # #

Mireille led the way through the usual circuit to her preferred practice range deep in the labyrinthine storm sewer of a district adjacent to the one where she lived; two rights, one left, one right, then past the next three junctions. Once in the right spot she stopped and said, "You can drop the rucksack here." Mireille placed her lantern on the concrete floor and aimed it to a spot on a near-perpendicular masonry wall that she guessed to be about twenty-five meters away.

"Now take the chalk and hop over to the wall where I pointed the light. Draw a circle at head-height; about the size of a dinner plate."

Chloe did as instructed but as she returned from her assigned task she faltered, seeming to have miscalculated her jump across the water and stumbled upon landing. She caught herself with her palms as she nearly crashed face-first onto the concrete walkway along the channel. She rose quickly, wiped her hands on her jeans, and then returned; her shame at falling in Mireille's company now even more obvious on her face as she came closer into view.

Mireille decided to act as if nothing happened, to keep Chloe on-task. "Ear plugs," she commanded as she inserted her own. "Fire when you're ready."

Mireille watched as Chloe finished placing her hearing protection and then produced her gun and primed it. She held it out with one arm and fired ten rounds, emptying the gun.

Mireille squinted through the dusky distance to see where the shots hit but could not find a trace of dust or smoke. Finally she spotted two chips in the concrete both far below the circle and to the left, barely within reach of the shadowy border of the lantern's focus. "Again," she commanded, hoping Chloe would sight-in and acclimate to the pistol with some more practice.

Chloe emptied two more magazines, only managing to get three of her thirty shots inside the target area. Mireille grew further discouraged when she noticed Chloe's posture sagging, conveying her own, similar assessment. "I don't know what's wrong. I can't-" Her face was tight, obviously on the verge of tears. "I'm- I'm sorry... I'm useless."

Mireille felt an urge to console the girl but soon thought better of it. Consolation will not help her in a fight, won't keep her alive, Mireille thought. "Give me the gun," she said. "Give me a magazine."

"I'm sorry. You knew this would happen. I'm the reason you've been upset," Chloe said, her voice breaking. "I'm sor-"

"The gun and the magazine," Mireille commanded.

Chloe's head was bowed in obvious shame as she placed both the articles into Mireille's waiting hands.

"Pay attention. I can help you." Mireille shared what she thought was important, narrating her actions; "Slap the magazine in with force; you want to be certain it's all the way in before you release the slide. The delay from a misfeed can give your opponents an advantage over you. You're a professional. Poor technique is unacceptable and can cost you your life." She continued, "Keep the front sight sharp in your focus always. The target should be blurry; the rear sight should be blurry too. Keep control of the gun. Bring the sights back onto your target after each shot as quickly as you can. You'll want to get a second shot right away if your first one misses."

She sighted in on the target and methodically emptied the pistol into the center of the circle, leaving a tight group of craters in the cement. She felt herself smiling, somewhat relieved to see that she had managed not to lose much of her shooting skill in the past couple of inactive months. "Now it's your turn."

Chloe accepted the pistol and inserted a loaded magazine the way Mireille had just demonstrated. Mireille watched as the girl cocked the pistol and took aim. Chloe fired and Mireille's eyes immediately locked onto the wisp of dust raining from where the bullet struck.

"Low and left," Mireille said. "Squeeze the trigger until it fires. Fight the urge to pull it."

Chloe sent another round to the wall.

"Again, low and left. Bring your left hand up higher on the frame." Mireille got behind Chloe and reached around to place her arms parallel to the other's. She stooped slightly to brace her chin tight against the girl's shoulder and clasped her hands around Chloe's. "Both of your thumbs point to the target, like this. You're a professional- Hold the gun like you're a professional and you'll shoot like one." She manipulated Chloe's grip as she instructed.

Through her chin, Mireille felt Chloe's neck tighten as she swallowed. "Just relax. Pay attention to the front sight. Squeeze the trigger like it's a rubber ball-Don't pull it like a lever."

Chloe fired and a piece of the wall within the circle chipped.

Mireille felt herself grin, elated to have guided Chloe so well toward improvement with her ad hoc mentorship. "Nice. Again." She smiled broader, also acknowledging that she had never felt so at ease with her arms around anyone like this before. She kept her guiding embrace around Chloe for a few more rounds, happy with the other's progress and content to hold her all the same. "Lean a little forward so you can get back on target faster." She released her hold and stood more upright to rest her hands on the girl's shoulders. Eventually she backed away to assume the more passive role of observing her pupil.

Chloe fired three more magazines and placed sixteen of her thirty shots inside the target. She turned to Mireille wearing an uncertain expression.

Mireille made sure to smile. "Most pistol engagements happen at ten meters or less." Mireille then stretched the truth, compelled to help Chloe build some confidence in light of her obviously atrophied skills. She offered, "You're doing better than most police officers at more than twice that distance, and guns aren't even your specialty."

Chloe returned a small grin. "I need to practice more. I want it to come back to me."

Poor Chloe, Mireille thought, once so deadly, now reduced to below average. The Soldats would no longer find a challenge in offing her if caught alone. She forced a smile and said, "Come here first."

Chloe stepped closer as directed.

Mireille reached out and smoothed a few errant locks of Chloe's hair. Maybe, she thought, with more time Chloe will recover; regain her former skills. If she never does though, she'll need me to protect her, Mireille resolved. "You're..." Mireille faltered, suddenly too shy to complete her sentence. She reached out and grazed the side of Chloe's still-too-thin cheek with her fingertips, her eyes contacting the other's for a moment after the touch.

"Before... You wanted to know," Mireille said. "When they asked what my decision was." She swallowed; now struggling to maintain her forthrightness, feeling Chloe deserved some measure of honesty from her. "I told them that you are mine." She felt herself glow a little inside as she admitted part of her feelings out loud and without the obfuscation of easy sarcasm.

Chloe stiffened and her expression turned serious. She loaded her pistol and released the slide, then turned to face the target, and fired until her gun locked back; empty. While still facing the target with her gun held at-aim, she said, "Your generosity is appreciated, but my body and my mind continue to disappoint both of us, I know. You are right to be worried. I am no longer in your league." Chloe lowered her weapon. "But know that I am grateful for your continued charity."

Mireille's chest felt empty at the sound of Chloe's open dejection. By instinct, she searched her imagination for excuses to soften the hard edges of the obvious truth. "Your eyes. We'll get your eyes checked. You may just need glasses-"

"I can't..." Chloe halted and then seemed to blurt-out the rest; shouting it toward the target with her arms flailing throughout the crescendo, "I can't move the way I used to. I can't remember simple things. I-I can't remember how to dress myself without looking like some imbecile. I can't... It's like my- It's all gone! I'm useless!"

Heaviness overtook Mireille's heart as the whole picture became clear. Her thoughts roiled; how long had Chloe's brain been without oxygen before her return? Surely she would have far greater challenges than these if parts of her brain had been damaged. Some sort of mental disease maybe? Perhaps near-starvation had taken its toll and deteriorated her mind? Mireille halted her emotional spiral, realizing that neither of them were working toward solving their collective problem- The Soldats. She focused back on the present task. She commanded, "Pick up the bag. Get the lantern. We're going home."

# # #

Without another word between them, they skulked up from the depths and made their way back through unwavering shadows, surrounded by the tranquil chill of autumn well after midnight. Finally through with the long trek home, they cautiously entered the building.

"Mireille," Chloe called out.

Mireille halted as her boot hit the bottom step and turned to see Chloe holding an envelope.

"It was in the mailbox. It's addressed to Noir."

Mireille squared her jaw. "That would be us."

Chloe looked to the envelope and then to Mireille. "Us."

Mireille turned, drew her gun and proceeded up the stairs. She entered the apartment and Chloe followed close behind with her weapon ready as well. As soon as she was certain the place was safe, Mireille stowed her pistol and turned on a lamp.

Chloe handed the letter to Mireille.

Mireille opened the missive to find a mostly blank sheet of paper with one sentence printed in its center: "46.6323° N 1.1765° E - A peaceful discussion at your convenience."

Mireille looked to her side surprised to find Chloe was not there. She took the note to the billiard table and booted her computer. She drew a seat and once the machine was ready she searched for the coordinates and pinpointed the location. About a four hour drive to the south, she noted. "Chloe?"

Mireille waited for a half minute but Chloe did not respond or come when called. She called out again, "Chloe?"

The other came to Mireille's side, practically dragging her feet. She stopped next to Mireille with her arms and head hanging in what could be observed as misery.

Mireille pointed to the satellite image map on her computer's display. "Do you know this place?"

Chloe's head lifted enough for her eyes to reflect some of the light from the screen. She continued to look at the image for several moments. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"A few days ago, you said you'd do anything to stay here."

Chloe raised her head. Her eyes drifted to contact Mireille's.

Mireille rose from her chair, now determined to fix her demoralized partner. She walked to the kitchen and retrieved her wooden cutting board. She returned to the living area where Chloe had remained. She ordered, "If you don't have your knives, get them."

Chloe pulled one of the weapons from the cuff of her left sleeve. She held it out as if presenting it for Mireille's scrutiny.

Mireille raised the cutting board and held it to her right at arm's length. "Put it into this board." Mireille understood the risk but faced it nonetheless; confident that Chloe's strongest skill had adequately survived- They both needed to see that, Mireille thought.

"I can't-"

"You aren't broken, dammit!" Mireille shouted, hoping to stir the other out of her doldrums and into positive action. "You're only three meters away from me. Hit the center of this board!" Chloe's sudden streak of hard-headedness aggravated Mireille almost as much as their predicament with the Soldats.

Chloe shook her head. Calmly, she stated, "I will not attempt this." She turned away to face the orange haze of the city's nighttime glow through the windows.

Mireille found her temper tested further by the girl's continued defiance. She muttered, "If we're the true Noir like you say, then do it." She brought the unpalatable into the open, adding, "If you're having sudden doubts about that ersatz religion of yours then-"

Chloe turned as if to retort. Her composure seemed about to break. Her eyes narrowed, her breaths heaved, her jaw clenched.

Mireille goaded further, half out of resentment for Chloe's noncompliance, the rest desperate to make the girl act, to prove her worth, eager to see her legitimately earn her place in their partnership. Mireille again held the cutting board out to her right, away from her body. "Send a knife into this board!"

Chloe's features sagged. She lowered to sit on the floor and buried her face in her palms.

Mireille walked over to stand beside Chloe, ready to bark more orders but after a moment she reconsidered and decided to sit and join the girl at her level. She leaned a little to her right, making her shoulder contact Chloe's, thinking that she may respond better to persuasion if accompanied by the physical contact she seemed always to long for.

Chloe retreated from the subtle touch.

Mireille spoke in the gentlest tone she could muster, saying, "Look, we need to sort this out."

Chloe gave no response.

"We just need more time for you to recover."

Chloe murmured into her palms, "I will fail you. I will fail again. I will lose again."

"Nonsense," Mireille hissed, rejecting the notion by reflex. "Maybe we need to get out of here. Maybe we need to go somewhere that we can take the time we need for you to recover. We need to train together, understand one another in battle- We need to become Noir- A better Noir."

Talking toward the floor, Chloe said, "Down below, when put to the task it became obvious. You are a true professional. I no longer am."

"You still are." Mireille rose. She looked down to Chloe and said, "It's very late. Come to bed with me. You shouldn't sleep out here tonight. It's too dangerous to risk being separated."

Mireille turned and headed for bed. She placed her Walther on her nightstand, quickly changed, and climbed under the covers and waited for Chloe to join her.

After a few moments Chloe entered the space and stripped, leaving her clothes in an inelegant heap by the side of the bed. She climbed in and faced away from Mireille.

Mireille turned off the light on her nightstand. Her eyes were heavy from the long day, but her mind was too restless to permit sleep. From the sound of Chloe's breathing, she was unable to sleep either. She decided to share her most recent rumination. "In about six hours we'll rent a car. We'll go to that place from the note."

Chloe said, "I am lost."

Mireille rolled to face Chloe's back, preparing to confront her.

"I used to admire you. After tonight I am in awe of you. I am undeserving of your kindness."

Mireille reached under the covers and draped her topmost arm across Chloe's side. She shifted the topic, trying to settle the both of them into a closer mood than they had been able to maintain in the past few hours. "No pajamas tonight," she stated.

"I didn't feel like changing," Chloe said with timidity.

Mireille glided her hand down the length of Chloe's side from her ribs to below her upturned hip. The girl's skin now covered a palpable layer of muscle and sinew; no longer just a thin tissue keeping her skeleton contained. "Your bones are getting harder to feel. You're so much stronger than when you first came to me."

Mireille felt herself wanting to hold Chloe, to wrap around her, to reassure her, to tell her in her native, non-verbal terms that she mattered. For moments, she argued with herself about the least awkward way to act out her needs. Finally she decided her course. With her topmost arm and leg, she captured and pulled her partner in close. Her senses seemed instantly rewarded by the contact. Contentment settled in as she sensed Chloe's relaxation within the lock of her limbs.

"I'm sorry if I was too demanding before," Mireille said. "I'm sure I came across as unhappy with your recovery. But I'm actually very pleased. Perhaps we're both a bit over-eager right now. We need to stay realistic."

Chloe turned within Mireille's limbs and nuzzled near her collarbone. Mireille felt what could have been a soft kiss at the base of her neck. Chloe then whispered against the sensitive skin, "I will do better."

"Will you throw for me? Later?"

"I will do whatever you ask of me." Chloe's topmost arm snaked around Mireille's shoulder blade. Her fingers dug lightly into the fabric of Mireille's night shirt and the skin beneath it. "I was afraid to fail again in front of you. I didn't want to add to your worries. But I see now that you will think less of me if I don't try. I must act to earn my place with you."

Mireille decided to allay what she imagined Chloe's biggest fear must be. "I told them I was going to keep you. I meant it; if you can't get better, even if you never can... You will always have a place with me. You'll be safe."

"Never get better?"

"I said 'if.'"

"So you think that could happen?"

"Shush." Mireille held Chloe a bit tighter for a moment and said, "I'm pretending not to be repulsed by you. Don't spoil it." After a while, Mireille sensed Chloe had fallen asleep and she allowed herself to surrender to fatigue at last.


	5. Origin and Terminus

CHAPTER 5 - Origin and Terminus

The morning had been a blur for Mireille. She slept too late and awoke in a panic, roused Chloe and pushed them both into an anxious scramble. They raced to bathe, dress, gather necessities of their business, rent a car, and finally motor south into their Centre expedition to face a sincere concession or an ambush.

Now two hours into the southward trek through the pastoral vistas of Val de Loire, any lingering agitation from the morning's trivial issues had faded. In this contemplative time behind the wheel Mireille's efforts to consider serious matters like Soldats' politics or combat strategy seemed wasted. Her ability to concentrate failed as she could not think of anything but Chloe.

She tried to confront the fascination, to think things through. She questioned what she truly expected from the girl. In her line of work, a partner can be a disadvantage but also a great asset- especially a partner of Noir caliber; a fellow so-called sapling. But in a less rational context, in those wee hours of the morning when she had pulled Chloe in close, she felt something; a vague yet genuine fancy that charmed all of her senses and quieted her thoughts. It defied computation or justification from her logical, business-driven side and that seemed to further the mystique of the experience.

Kirika had evoked a feeling like this one. That, Mireille felt certain, was love- the only love of her life. She was also certain her growing attachment to Chloe was different; far too complicated for a direct comparison. Chloe's devotion was overt, active, unsubtle, her touches tangible. She possessed an ability to receive affection and return it in a way that Kirika never could. Even now, lasting memories of that quiet congress with Chloe were pleasant enough that Mireille admitted to herself she craved more; a yearning that no longer proved easy for her to dismiss.

She glanced over to her passenger and then back to the road ahead. "You look great," she said after recognizing a milestone for her partner in the brief survey.

In her peripheral vision Mireille saw Chloe look up from the maps she had been studying.

Again, Mireille peeked over quickly to witness Chloe's semi-embarrassed smile and then returned her eyes to the road, almost grinning herself. She decided to explain further, to qualify her approval, "The grey tights and plaid skirt are great together. They match well." She added, "You look really good," and then decided to silence herself, realizing that she may undermine her sincerity if she overstated the compliment.

Chloe had dressed herself well indeed, Mireille knew, even in the haste of their abrupt start that day. She grinned inwardly; now more hopeful than ever from the progress Chloe had unwittingly shown.

As she reflected further, she began to wonder if her compulsion to rebuild Chloe came from nothing more than a desire for dominance and control. She also wondered if the notion of restoring Chloe was a sort of ruse; a self-delusion to disguise the fact that she, Mireille, needed repair and rehabilitation.

She stole another glance at her partner, finding the other still engaged in the satellite pictures at the top of the stack of papers in her lap. "You keep studying those like you've found something..."

"There are three good escape routes; one of them crosses a narrow stream on the west side of the property. I can tell from the shadows that there's a significant hill past the stream. If we head for that and get over the top, we'll have a great platform for defensive shots- or we can run down the other side and use the whole thing for cover as we head for the tree line. The other two routes have us in the open for what I guess is five hundred meters before we could reach cover."

Mireille felt herself smile. Chloe's continued determination to prove her worth deserved at least the reward of recognition. She managed to keep her tone nonchalant as she said, "So by telling me this you're admitting that I was right? That you're still a professional?" She sighed, "I'm glad we won't have to argue about that any longer." She kept her eyes on the road ahead but could tell she had hit the mark, noticing an affirmative change in Chloe's body language in her peripheral vision.

Mireille then considered; if their roles had been reversed, who could even offer her shelter? Would Chloe accept and take care of her the same way? Or would Chloe have simply cut her throat; perhaps the most humane way to deal with a person who can no longer do the one thing they exceeded at?

Mireille recalled entertaining the latter notion herself. She tried to convince herself that her humanity stopped her from pulling the trigger but now admitted the falseness of that noble explanation; even in those first few days, her regard for Chloe had been particular- not some general, upright altruism. It had to do with identity.

Like so many times in her life, her thoughts returned to the fateful morning when her young eyes saw first-hand the horrible injustice of the world, when her soul learned the pain of true loneliness and permanence of abandonment. Everything had been taken from her at once- her family, her home; her entire universe.

Her developing mind had unconsciously made certain to never again become close to anyone so as to avoid the inevitable anguish of their loss. That armor she had spent years perfecting had been fractured in just the first few months she had spent with Kirika. The punishment she had dreaded since childhood came again, both of the times that she had lost Kirika.

She then found herself trying to rebuild those defenses. And just as she had begun to put herself back together and relearn the steely strength of solitude the other one came to her; also broken, also abandoned, and literally begging to be let in. How could she refuse that parallel spirit, that pitiful, darkened reflection of herself? As Chloe said, they were both orphans now; their families cut down by the same blade, Mireille reflected.

She felt a glow deep inside as she contemplated fate and how it seemed insistent on them being together; whether at each other's throats or guarding each other through the night. That very morning when she awoke with the satisfying feel of Chloe wedged against her it had all become clearer. The lingering memory made her dither between a sororal resolve to heal and guard Chloe and the secretive giddiness of an adolescent crush. A few more moments of silent driving passed before Mireille could summon the courage to try to explain what she felt now compelled to share.

"I'd like to tell you something," she started, forcing herself to speak her feelings as though poising to plunge into ice water. "I know I was tough on you before but... I had..." She drew a breath, flustered by her own lack of resolve. She struggled to say, "I-It was agreeable... when we went to sleep this morning." She felt her face flare in a fierce blush.

A silent minute passed. She felt certain that Chloe's shyness about discussing the matter matched her own.

After another moment, Mireille offered, "So maybe... um, maybe we should do that for the time being. For safety- We can't afford to be apart."

"Yes, it is safer," Chloe hastily said, nodding. "Being in two different beds in two different places is... it's an unnecessary risk."

"Exactly," Mireille said, her eyes still trained on the road. Her blush faded as she convinced herself of the strategic practicality of the idea.

After another few moments of quiet, Chloe said, "I found it agreeable also." She added, "I-I look forward to it actually."

"That's fortunate since we've just committed to doing it indefinitely."

"Mireille," Chloe began, her tone carried nervousness as though what she was trying to say was critically important. "You sustain my life."

Mireille felt her brow knit. She felt Chloe wanted her to acknowledge what she said but had no firm idea what the girl meant or how to respond. Her tone made the presumably figurative statement come across with the ringing conviction of something meant as literal.

"I grow stronger when I'm closer to you. I can feel it. I know it's true. When we're apart I feel like I'm fading, losing ground." Chloe remained silent for a few seconds and resumed, "This morning, in your arms, I awoke stronger. I awoke feeling more like myself- and I know it's from touching you, being so close to you."

Mireille thought further about the proclamation, still unsure how to properly react. Though she found Chloe's sentiments stirringly sweet she also heard them as worryingly eccentric, bordering on delusional.

Chloe continued, "Food had become poison to me before I found you; I wanted to eat, wanted it so badly... but I would just throw it all up if I tried. Other times I would feel like my breaths were stifled, like the air around me had become a vacuum." Chloe's voice broke as she added, "I knew I was being pulled back to the other side. Somehow I knew that when I could be with you that I could be whole again. I could be alive. I have no reason for any of this but it is true- My existence is proof of it."

Mireille felt her throat tighten as she considered the depth of Chloe's hallucination. How could she be serious? she wondered. Still feeling like Chloe needed to hear something from her, she offered the only positive and honest response she could, saying, "You'd better stay close to me then."

Chloe's tone shaded with dejection as she responded, "I don't expect you to believe what I believe. You don't need to humor me. I know I sound insane."

With her eyes still trained ahead, Mireille reached over and clutched Chloe's hand. She squeezed firmly at first and then relaxed her hold a bit as Chloe returned the contact, clasping in response. Whatever Chloe's deranged fantasy may be, it seemed to be helping her progress, Mireille thought. Self-suggestion seemed strong in the girl from the start and this was just a continuation, she reasoned.

They rode in silence, coupled together for the remainder of their journey.

# # #

Once at their destination they completed two reconnaissance passes to survey the stately grounds and chateau. They took careful stock of the place to make sure their assumptions about perimeter security and egress were true, having only previously seen it as viewed from orbit. Mireille felt that she had seen enough and understood the place and its outlying area.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"I'm ready," Chloe answered, her voice resolute, carrying determination.

Mireille steered toward the gated drive that led to the home. The gate opened as they approached and she continued through, now fully on-guard to face whatever surprise could be waiting for them. She brought the car to the home's ostentatious front entry and parked.

She looked to her right and made eye contact with a woman standing at the house's entrance, seemingly waiting for them. Adele Garnier, Mireille assumed from her research of the property. She further surveyed their greeter: refined hair and an enviably stylish dress caught Mireille's attention; the woman's whole bearing implied generations of wealth. She was perfectly put together and looking proper in such a finely appointed manor- something Mireille could recognize from her own upbringing with her well-to-do family at their Corsican estate.

She exited the car and stepped around its front to join Chloe. Together they approached their hostess. Mireille kept her ears keen to their surroundings and her right hand ready to reach into the top of her purse for her pistol.

Once they were a few meters away from the front doors, Madame Garnier greeted them, "Welcome, welcome. Your journey here must have been long. Please come inside. I'll have refreshments ready for you shortly."

Mireille evaluated the woman closer now that they were face to face. She guessed that their hostess could have been twenty years older than herself, but her skin and hair appeared so pampered that the guess was a difficult one.

"Thank you so much for coming. Franck and I have been so looking forward to this."

Mireille responded with her well-practiced charm. "This is a lovely home."

Madame Garnier gave a slight bow. "And we are honored to have the Noir."

Mireille felt a slight start at the mention of the name. She sensed the same reaction from Chloe.

The lady Garnier flashed a plastic smile and said, "Oh come now; it's no secret that you two are the Grand Retour Altena and her faction worked so hard to bring about- We don't need to be coy about it. You are with friends. We're honored to have such distinguished company."

"And we recognize your hospitality," Chloe said, her tone polite, yet cool and acerbic as Mireille recalled from so many encounters with the girl before her return. Perhaps it was the reference to Altena that awakened the old, cold Chloe, Mireille mused.

The tone of Chloe's response influenced Mireille to withhold her own thanks, reserving it for a time when she felt it was better warranted. She instead gave a slight smile. She adjusted to hang her purse in the crook of her right elbow and reached down with her left hand to clasp Chloe's right, curious to see if Cold Chloe would shun her touch. She noticed their hostess glance at the connection.

"Like sisters," Madame Garnier said, smiling.

Mireille squeezed Chloe's hand while keeping eye contact with the woman. She felt Chloe return the gesture. Mireille quipped, "Nothing so sublime, I'm afraid. Just a pair of orphans raised to kill people."

The lady Garnier stiffened. She managed an uneasy smile as she said, "Of course, one would expect nothing but humility from the honorable Noir."

Mireille smiled, satisfied to have cut through the objectionable air of celebrity with which the woman had seemed to regard them. In her peripheral vision she noticed Chloe beaming to her, perhaps in response to her subtle display of dominance over their hostess or a shared sense of amusement at the other's attitude adjustment upon hearing the simple truth.

Madame Garnier seemed to force her smile a bit too hard as she gestured to her right. She said, "Please come and sit. My husband will join us shortly. We'll have a late lunch together. We would be honored."

Mireille entered the home's grand parlor, keeping her hold of Chloe's hand as she surveyed the room, observing windows, checking for possible exits, looking for signs of other people. She broke her contact with her partner and lowered to sit on one of the two antique sofas that seemed the room's focus. Chloe assumed a position at her side.

The man of the house entered the room with the lady Garnier close behind. His strong features and impeccable close-cropped hair dominated his appearance, seeming to contrast with his somewhat too-youthful, casual attire; a navy blue sport coat over a t-shirt and jeans. He greeted them, saying, "My name is-"

"Franck Garnier," Mireille interjected, "...Once CFO of a Philippines-based maritime cargo company and in recent years advisor to the European Central Bank. You ran for local office in Switzerland two years ago but were defeated by the labor party candidate... Anything important that I've missed?"

Garnier wore a placid, near blank expression. "If you're trying to impress me with this then you're mistaken."

"We didn't come here to impress. We came here for business. I'm trying to skip the formalities and get to the point where we understand each other."

Garnier's expression remained unchanged. "Well then, to start I would like to discuss something with you in private."

"Anything you need to say to me you can say to my partner," Mireille asserted.

"Miss Bouquet... I appreciate your steadfastness. I have plenty of it myself- or so my wife repeatedly assures me- but please allow me to discuss this with you out in the garden. Miss Chloe will be right here with Adele, always in your sight." He motioned toward the mostly-glass doors that led out to the garden.

Mireille decided to go along with it, knowing she could easily kick her way back in or even shoot through the barrier if she saw something she did not like. She nodded. "Alright. In the garden." She contacted Chloe's eyes for a moment, trying to tacitly convey her confidence in the situation before separating from her partner's company.

Once outside, Mireille made sure to keep her view of the inside while using her remaining senses to keep track of her surroundings and scan for other threats. She made sure to note the direction of Chloe's chosen escape path over the stream to the west now that she had a clear vantage outside the rear of the home.

"Thank you for humoring me. I assure you it is worth it."

"What does that mean?"

"This is about her. Please appreciate the courtesy I'm extending to you with this information."

"I'm listening."

He reached into his jacket to produce a handful of photos and a folded paper. He offered them to Mireille. "This is her family."

Mireille took her eyes off of Chloe for the moment and accepted the stack of pictures. She leafed through them, examining the faces, the people.

"That's her brother. He's ten years her senior. Those are his wife and children."

Mireille flipped through the next photos in the stack.

"That's her sister, just a few years older than your Marya Tomilin- Chloe, as she's now named. Little Marya is the youngest of the three."

Mireille saw the resemblance now, particularly in the sister. She began to accept that what she saw and heard could be true. She flipped through to view another photo.

"Those are her mother and father. They're all in a village close to Shimanovsk in eastern Russia. That's where she was born. Her parents brought her to receive the blessing."

"They're alive? All of them?"

"I have no other information about them, only what you now have. But yes, I think they're all alive."

She has a family, Mireille thought, rolling the notion around her mind as she brought her vision back onto her partner through the glass panes of the garden doors.

Mireille said, "She doesn't know any of this. That's why you wanted to tell me in private."

"Yes."

"Well, I thank you for your discretion... but I have to wonder why you're telling me."

"I received a letter last year. I was not to open it unless the right conditions had been met. After your visit to the Manor, I received an order to proceed. The letter was from Altena. She instructed that this information be given to Chloe upon her death. Until a few weeks ago that seemed unnecessary. Then, as you know, she reappeared.

Since you insist that she belongs to you, I'm transferring that responsibility to you, her current guardian."

Mireille looked back to gaze at the small stack of photos in her hands. "Thank you."

"Don't mistake this for altruism. I give you this courtesy because I expect something in exchange- it's my other reason for asking you to come here... and it could be the means for keeping you and your partner safe."

Mireille nodded and slipped the photos and the letter into an inside pocket of her jacket. "Then let's get back inside if we're going to talk business."

They returned to the house. Mireille sat next to Chloe and warmed her fingers around a cup of coffee she had accepted from Garnier's wife. He began to tell them of someone he needed eliminated and Mireille began to drift as he delved into the details. The photos in her jacket seemed to weigh as much as bricks; their presence a constant reminder that she now held the decision about whether to tell Chloe or destroy them and avoid the issue altogether. Her mind raced with emotionally charged possibilities and fear took the forefront.

They had entered that residence as a pair of orphans. Mireille, it now seemed, was the only one of them now that truly had no family to speak of. If Chloe's skills never recovered, would she choose to leave now that she had somewhere to go? Would she do it out of a sense of duty to her family or would that merely be an unwarranted excuse, a convenient exit for someone who would not want to be a burden to Mireille? Her runaway thoughts halted at the sound of Chloe's voice.

"I will not answer this," Chloe said. She turned to Mireille with an expectant look as though delivering a cue for her to speak.

Mireille swallowed; flustered that she had missed whatever question Garnier asked. She apologized, hoping to recover from the gaffe. "I'm sorry. I don't think I heard you clearly."

Garnier raised his voice a bit and said, "Twenty-five thousand?"

Mireille scrambled to answer, certain they were talking about the fee. She huffed, "If that's thirty-three percent you're going to give us up front, then yes."

"I was thinking half. Cash."

Mireille paused for a moment, half-heartedly trying to maintain her bargaining position while her thoughts kept threatening to veer toward Chloe again. "Thirty up front, cash. Thirty when it's done, electronic."

Garnier's eyes locked onto Mireille's. He said nothing and belied no emotion. "Agreed." He rose and extended his had to Mireille.

She accepted the gesture and shook his hand.

As he returned to his seat, Chloe passed the information about the target to Mireille. She leafed through the folder and stopped as she viewed the photos of their objective; Remy Breffort.

Mireille felt her stomach sink like she had just swallowed a liter of mercury. She recognized that this would mean the death of her sense of honor: if she succeeded in this contract she would become what she hated. She knew now after all of her hope to seek the light, to end the darkness that there could be no way out. This contract on Breffort made her even more a tool of the Soldats. She realized now that she stood at the brink, ready to hurtle herself toward her lowest depth, afraid that she would drag Chloe under as well.

She stood and pulled Chloe up to join her. She dropped the dossier to the carpet. "We aren't going to do it. Find someone else to help with your internal struggles." She turned to leave.

Garnier said, "Please take some time to reconsider. The offer still stands if you do. Quid pro quo. He is the reason you two are being sanctioned. If you take care of him, you are also helping yourselves."

Mireille's compulsion to leave grew overwhelming. The allure of purpose and the temptation of money threatened to draw her back at any moment. It would be so easy to simply accept everything, play along, she lamented. She headed for the exit with Chloe right behind her.

# # #

"I don't understand why you refused that job, but I trust your decision. You know best." As Chloe spoke, Mireille felt the girl's fingers caress her thigh, seemingly to illustrate her support.

"I think Garnier is playing us. Breffort wouldn't... I just don't think he would. I want to hear it from him." Mireille sighed, "I need some time to think about it. I'm not... I can't concentrate right now."

Now forty-five minutes into their trip back to Paris, Mireille knew she had to face the truth. As she now saw it she had nowhere to go but down and could no longer bring herself to dismiss the inevitable. She wondered; if she were to tell Chloe about her family would yet another partner leave to seek happiness apart from her company? Partner... She thought; this had nothing to do with the business- This was about the emptiness in her chest when the notion of being alone once again became likely. She tried to set aside her emotions and use reason on the problem, but she eventually resigned the task knowing that this was a matter of the heart only and logic would have no place in the process.

After much struggle, she decided that to selfishly withhold the news for the sake of her own inadequacies would be beyond monstrous. Chloe had to know. She had to know that there was indeed somewhere else she could go, and other people for whom she could have been brought back. Chloe did not deserve to be dragged down the dead-end road Mireille already felt she had been foolishly leading the girl.

She swallowed against the rising ache in her throat, already certain that she would be saying good-bye to her new partner the same way she had to Kirika many weeks ago. "Do you know of a place called Shimanovsk?"

"No. Where is it?"

"Eastern Russia."

"You should make a right turn somewhere if that's where we're heading."

Mireille glanced over at Chloe's drollery and then returned her eyes to the road.

"It upsets you- that place. Is that where she is now?"

"I'm upset for a few reasons. Not the least of which is that I'm becoming the kind of person I swore never to be."

"Let me help you. Let me ease your worries. I will take care of you the way you've taken care of me. I will soothe you and unburden your mind."

Chloe's offer made it even harder for Mireille to continue, but she was determined to give her partner this new map of escape. "I-I learned something today," Mireille started, reaching into her jacket for the photos and the letter from Altena.

"Mireille!"

Mireille's body jolted. The rear end of a grey sedan lurched directly into their path, launching into the roadway from the tree line. In a flurry, her reflexes led her to swerve around the other car. She tempered the brakes as best she could to keep control in the chaotic maneuver.

Her car's rear tire's then slipped on the layer of leaves in the road's shoulder. The back of the vehicle arced out of control. She racked the steering wheel opposite the skid in a desperate attempt to straighten the car before it would strike any of the trees alongside the road. She gained a moment of control and the rear of the car straightened enough for her to steer between two large trees and avoid striking either head-on. The car slammed to an abrupt halt and Mireille saw stars as she felt her face strike.

Dazed, she looked up to find flaccid airbags and a haze of white powder on everything in sight. Chloe's seat was empty. The passenger door was open. Mireille reached to open her door but it would not move. She looked around to discover she had wedged the car diagonally between two thick trees and one of them had crushed her door shut. She struggled to free herself from beneath the steering wheel. Her seat and the floor of the car had buckled high enough to nearly trap her legs. She heard two gunshots far behind her and threw herself sideways across the passenger seat and shimmied out to tumble onto the ground.

Now fully recognizing this as an ambush, she looked back in through the open door and spotted the straps of her purse tangled beneath the passenger seat. She scrambled to reach and pulled out her Walther and her extra magazines. Once she secured them she cautiously rose to duck into a better-concealed position behind the open car door. She scanned her surroundings and tried to locate Chloe. She assessed herself, feeling that all of her limbs were intact; nothing seemed in too much pain as she half-crouched. She absently wiped an incessant trickle from her gurgling nostrils, covering the back of her hand with a swath of bright red blood. Perhaps a broken nose, she thought, nothing serious.

As she scanned through the trunks and brush she spotted a pair of men about sixty meters distant, jogging in a direction adjacent to her position. Chasing Chloe, she surmised. Her cunning girl must be leading them away, thinking that she had been trapped in the wreckage, vulnerable. She checked left, right, and back, making sure it was safe to begin pursuit and draw up their rear. She sprang into action, keeping her pistol pointed down as she half-ran, giving chase to the thugs that were likely after Chloe.

She raced between trunks and dashed by thickets until she caught a clear view of them, estimating they were thirty meters away. She knew she had to drop both of them quickly since her first shot would betray her presence to her prey as well as anyone else in the area. She halted, released her breath, aimed, and fired two rapid shots to the center of each person. She gulped in air once she witnessed both drop limp to the forest floor. She dashed back toward the road, anxious to put distance between herself and the place where her gunshots had just sounded from.

She scurried until she caught sight of the wrecked car again. The abrupt pop of gunfire sent her diving to the leafy cover on the ground. She thought her ears detected the shots' origin from closer to the road so she crawled the remaining distance to put the shielding bulk of the car's engine compartment between herself and the motorway. Gradually she rose to crouch in front of the car's still-warm radiator grill, listening for some rustle of leaves or the pop of a breaking stick to indicate the approach of other assailants.

Leaves rustled from behind the car. Mireille drew a breath and swung out from her cover, gun level, and ready to shoot. Chloe leapt from the spot and bounded toward the road. A man followed soon after giving chase to her partner.

Mireille sighted-in on the center of the running thug's trunk, ready to fire. Something jerked her right arm behind her back. An arm clamped around her throat, seeming to squeeze the blood from her face and force all of it excruciatingly into the capillaries in her eyes. She lined up her hips to deliver a backward kick, to break off the attack before she would black out. As she wound her thigh forward for maximum force, the brute's hold slackened. He howled and fell, dragging her down with him.

She glanced up to see Chloe dash back into view, bounding toward their wrecked car. She suddenly stopped and twirled in time to slice open the neck of the goon who had been chasing her. Her arms followed through the motion with violent ferocity more so than the artful grace Mireille had seen from Chloe in the past.

Mireille rolled to her feet poised to shoot, scanning their surroundings over the sights of her pistol. When it seemed clear, she looked down to see the thug who tried to choke her still wailing, blood pouring from his left eye socket where the glint of one of Chloe's daggers shone between where his fingers sheltered the wound. Mireille aimed and sent a round into his head, ceasing the racket. She then turned to Chloe, to check her condition.

Chloe locked onto her eyes with the cold, predatory resolve Mireille remembered from their conflicts in the past. Her posture looked ready for further combat but she remained coolly still.

"Are you alright?" Mireille asked, catching her breath, recovering her full faculties after the ordeal.

Chloe said nothing and continued her disquieting stare. Then she launched to skip over the roof of the crumpled car and disappeared to the other side. She leapt back to face Mireille, now clutching her handbag. She pounced, knocking Mireille onto her back into the layer of leaves next to one of the thugs' bodies.

Mireille recovered her senses from the shock of the ambush and found Chloe straddling her, holding her in place, her expression pensive. Chloe spoke slowly, her voice cold, "Your face."

Chloe then twisted to rummage through Mireille's purse and produced a handful of tissues. She leaned forward to blot around Mireille's mouth and upper lip. She licked the tissue and began rubbing harder in the area seeming dissatisfied with the progress of her cleanup. Her expression turned more pleasant. She licked the wad of tissues again and continued to dutifully wipe and dab at Mireille's lips and chin.

Mireille could not contain her growing smile. So perhaps not in rehearsal, but for certain in the main performance; Chloe once again reigned superb, Mireille thought. Though raw and lacking her usual refinement, her tactics and her skill had proven as lethal as ever. Mireille had no remaining doubt that Chloe also knew she had reestablished herself. Mireille bubbled with elation at the notion; now exultant for her partner as well as for the dark enterprise they shared.

"Stop smiling. I need to make you pretty again. You're making it difficult." Chloe's complaint carried the distinctive lilt of humor. She began to grin.

Mireille smiled broader.

Chloe began to chuckle and then halted her ministrations seeming to have caught the contagion from Mireille.

Mireille reached up to pull her fierce little partner down onto herself in an ardent embrace. Their victory had been as swift and certain as the ambush that had been laid out to finish them, Mireille knew.

She realized then that together they could take on the world and win- the notion thrilled her already giddy mind. They were bigger than the Soldats. Now a complete and capable entity, they set the terms.

"Who are we?" Mireille asked, squeezing Chloe hard, rocking her left and right in carefree jubilation atop their bed of leaves.

"Noir," Chloe near-growled, close to Mireille's ear.

"Who are we?" Mireille asked again, yearning to hear it once more.

Chloe's legs clamped tighter against Mireille's sides and she answered, "The true Noir."


	6. Extant and Past

CHAPTER 6 - Extant and Past

Mireille spent the morning at her computer and Chloe maintained the customary spot on the floor beside her chair. The girl sat in meditative silence as usual but this morning no longer hovered nearby. She instead leaned against Mireille's right leg, sometimes touching the inside of her calf with a shy caress. The gestures seemed as much for Chloe's self-comfort as for affection paid. Since their ride home, their brief slumber, and throughout the course of the morning, Chloe seemed insistent on maintaining a physical connection at all times.

Following the melee the preceding evening, Mireille wiped-away any traces that the lawful world could use to connect them to the scene. She had used their attackers' car to return them to Paris and left it in an outlying district with the windows down and the keys inside, certain that some eager thief would make it vanish before sunrise. Their destroyed rental had been chartered with one of her false IDs and a matching fraudulent credit card; that matter would resolve itself, she knew.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, she replayed that ecstatic moment of victory in her mind and found herself smiling from the memory. Now, that heady optimism from the day before had mellowed. She still felt good, but also grounded once again by the weight of the challenges that remained for Noir.

She contemplated whether the ambush could have been from Garnier, Breffort, or some other general in Les Soldats. No matter who sent them, Mireille knew it should now be obvious to them that she and Chloe were hard targets. The next attack was sure to be tougher, more cunning. She also knew that Noir could strike with surety if she understood which adversary posed the most immediate threat. She could make an example of that one and maybe preempt the rest, perhaps disrupting Les Soldats power structure entirely.

Her computer chimed and her eyes refocused on the screen. She smiled. Their prime opponent would be easier to divine soon since she had just received the email reply she had waited for throughout the morning.

"This afternoon, four o'clock..." Mireille started. "He agreed to meet me alone. I'll figure out the truth. Then we'll know our next move." Mireille felt Chloe's fingers curl to clutch the inside of her knee. She looked down and met the girl's gaze.

"That will be risky," Chloe said.

"I've met with him before and I'm here to tell you about it. He chose to cooperate the last time. If I make him think he can gain from it, he'll cooperate again." Mireille ended the sentence with the most reassuring smile she could manage. Still seeing disapproval in Chloe's face, she added "And my partner can handle herself alone while I'm gone. I've seen her in action- She's quite deadly."

Chloe's lips stretched into a sly grin. Her eyes assumed that predacious leer from the day before as she stared up at Mireille for a lasting moment. She then rose and circled behind the chair, disappearing from Mireille's peripheral view. Her arms snaked from behind to drape around Mireille's neck and shoulders.

"My dear partner..." Chloe near-whispered close enough for the breath behind her words to tease Mireille's right ear, "Always so responsible, so anxious. I can feel how tense you are..." Her arms tightened and relaxed. "You've been nothing but anxious for two solid weeks. You deserve a respite. You can forget whatever your worries are, just for a little while. Let me take care of you."

Mireille leaned her head back, increasing her closeness with Chloe in a semi-voluntary gesture of reply to the alluring offer, its delivery, and messenger.

"Yesterday, I saw you happy. I felt you happy... and now you're back to worrying again." Chloe's words dripped with too much sweetness; playful, devilish. Her lips brushed the edge of Mireille's ear as she asked, "Do I not make you happy?"

Mireille let her eyelids droop closed to contain her inner conflict. The turmoil of her heart intensified amid her partner's suggestive tenderness. Since their victory in the woods Chloe's previous air of pious innocence had begun to wane and now moments of sly lustiness would come to the fore in their place. She deduced that Altena strove to raise Chloe in a virtuous, spiritual framework; perhaps to preserve some part of her humanity or give her hope for redemption despite a vocation of continuous murder.

Mireille cringed inside with guilt; realizing she was the girl's corruptor on some level- a wholly secular influence supporting the desertion of her partner's last vestiges of purity. She knew her guiltiness also stemmed from enjoying those same impulses implied by her partner's overtures; urges too salacious to act out without crossing some yet undrawn line.

Since her childhood, happiness had been scarce. Whenever it came to her she felt selfish, wrong for indulging. Since the miracle of Chloe's reappearance, Mireille found she caved to the greed often; now afraid to let a moment of joy slip past, unappreciated. They reshaped each other, she knew. They were together, closer than ever, and it no longer seemed close enough to merely hold hands or even lie chastely entwined under the covers.

Together, Mireille thought. It seemed clear now that from the beginning the Soldats wanted to keep them apart. She reasoned that They viewed any chance of their companionship as a grave threat to Their order. They also recognized the true Noir, she concluded.

Whether genuine or fabricated, the information passed along from Garnier could be some conniving way to break their growing bond and perhaps drive a wedge between them. She knew that any fabrication could be possible given the resources of their opposition. But even that ostensibly unassailable logic did little to relieve her discomfort for withholding something from this adoring creature who so trustily offered her once-punctured heart.

As they had traveled back to Paris, victorious, she could not bring herself to sully the moment; her mind sped to find any excuse with Chloe clinging dearly to her arm as she drove. She convinced herself that the whole story could be some subtle scheme and she needed to find out the truth before playing into their hands and misleading, perhaps hurting the girl.

The clash between her thoughts and feelings had no place amid her partner's affections, so Mireille rose and slipped from Chloe's arms. She turned and her eyes met Chloe's for a moment. She gave a small grin, silently thanking her for the offer of comfort.

Chloe grimaced. She released a short sigh, her disappointment obvious.

Perhaps she would not believe the news anyway, Mireille thought. She turned and stepped to one of the windows. She leaned against the dormer as she gazed and continued her internal debate on the matter. Or maybe Chloe would not care at all; far too enrobed in the Noir mythos to concern herself with the banal connections of the human family.

She startled at the suddenness of Chloe's hands reaching from behind to rest on the sides of her ribs. She soon relaxed into the touch as the girl's hands meandered down and stopped on her hips. She then gasped as Chloe shifted to clutch her backside.

In apparent response to Mireille's reaction, Chloe said, "I must thoroughly examine you for injuries- we had a terrible crash before the fight yesterday." Mireille felt Chloe press against her back as she groped more boldly. Her voice then assumed a tone too solemn to be taken seriously as she added, "And you haven't inspected me either. We should correct this oversight soon- to maintain our professionalism."

Mireille spun to face Chloe, unable to suppress a smirk. "You think you're clever?"

Chloe's face was shaded by a light blush, as though embarrassed, caught. A corner of her mouth rose in a playful sneer. "You're the clever one... I'm the fast one."

Mireille rested her hands on her hips, keen to challenge Chloe's assumptions about their roles and limitations. "You're plenty clever. And I'm also fast."

Chloe lunged forward and seized Mireille's wrists, forcing her hands together behind her back. "I'm faster," she said in a frisky snarl, "And I have you trapped." She pressed her face against Mireille's shirt, nuzzling into the space between her breasts through the fabric.

Mireille snapped free and sent Chloe down, tackling and pinning her to the floor. "You're incorrigible," she declared while holding Chloe's shoulders hard against the boards, leering at her partner. "You're a little imp," she added, feeling herself beam down on the girl with unrestrained affection. "My little imp."

Then she felt the hem of her top rising.

Chloe's eyes locked onto hers. She wore a crafty smile.

"What are you doing?"

Chloe's eyes narrowed to slits. "Impish things."

Mireille let her eyelids sink shut as the heat of Chloe's palms settled around the cups of her bra. Her breath faltered and began to accelerate as the imp's hands timorously caressed. She craned her neck lower until she felt her mouth meet Chloe's hairline. She placed a small kiss and moved lower, compelled to continue kissing, savoring the smooth heat of Chloe's skin against her lips.

Amidst the relative silence of the room, her ears filled with the charged sound of both their nervous, hastened breaths. Slowly, she placed a row of sweet pecks, working her way down to the tip of Chloe's nose. The girl's hands looped behind her shoulder blades and pulled downward, as if begging for their bodies to press hard enough to combine.

A knock on the door startled them both. Mireille rolled aside to crouch next to the corner of the billiard table, her heart and lungs still racing from before. She reached underneath to where her pistol hung, holstered. She saw Chloe poised as well with a dagger ready in her right palm.

Mireille drew her gun and nodded to Chloe, silently confirming that she would provide cover as the door would open. She stepped to the door, pistol behind her back, ready to point it as she prepared to yank the door open.

Once Mireille had opened it, her breath stopped. Kirika stood on the other side, her shoulders sagging under the straps of luggage, her face wearing that rare, happy look that Mireille had only enjoyed seeing a few times in their year together. Mireille stayed locked onto Kirika's eyes, frozen for what seemed like minutes as she beheld what once was her only wish, now come true.

Kirika's bags dropped to the floor. She fell forward to hug with a desperate grip Mireille could never have expected from her stoic, long-absent partner. The force of Kirika's embrace seemed to squeeze tears to the corners of Mireille's eyes.

She brought her arms around Kirika and returned the hug both as a reflex and as the greedy fulfillment of an abandoned dream. "I told you to stay away," she whispered, half-scolding from over Kirika's shoulder, trying hard to restrain her tears. She released her hold and pulled away, now realizing that she still had her gun in her right hand.

Kirika almost grinned. "You're out of breath. I scared you." Her face returned to its previous blank expression. "Both of you."

Mireille turned, prompted by Kirika now looking past her shoulder. Kirika stepped past and entered the apartment. She approached Chloe, by the window. Mireille read what could have been a touch of fear in Chloe's posture when she gaged the girl's reaction to Kirika's advance. She wanted to say something to reassure Chloe, to ease her apparent upset, but fought the urge to meddle and instead turned to scoot Kirika's bags fully into the apartment and secure the door.

Kirika stepped closer to Chloe and said, "I-I'm so glad... I... You're really alive."

Mireille approached the scene from behind. Chloe's expression again brought her nearly to intercede, but she restrained herself and allowed what she imagined a difficult reunion for both the girls to continue.

Kirika's voice broke as she said, "I didn't want to-" She leaned forward and captured Chloe in an abrupt, clumsy hug. "This is a miracle."

Mireille had never seen such hurt in Chloe's eyes until that moment with Kirika clinging to her rigid body. Chloe's distress grew too much for Mireille to witness. She reached, laid a hand on Kirika's shoulder and pulled gently, physically suggesting that she move away from Chloe.

Kirika complied with the non-verbal demand. She let go and backed away by a step. She then bowed her head to Chloe and said, "I hope you can forgive me." She added, "We can be friends again."

Chloe had Kirika fixed in a cold stare as if she had just been slapped and scorned. She said nothing.

"Now we can have that tea together." Kirika turned to meet Mireille's eyes. She showed an uneasy smile and added, "All three of us, here, again."

"That..." Chloe paused and then continued, "...cannot happen." She now stood further away, having slipped along the outer wall by a few steps to place herself on the other side of the billiard table from where Kirika and Mireille remained. Mireille recognized the cold, acid tone, as the girl added, "We drink coffee."

Kirika looked to Mireille, her eyes questioning, and then turned back to Chloe. "You don't have to... I won't-" she started and paused, apparently searching for the right words. "It's all over. We can all be friends now. This is- We can all be happy... This is wonderful that we're all here."

"There is only one thing that is over," Chloe said. Mireille saw the girl's lower lip quiver- the only moving feature on her otherwise stolid face. After a moment Chloe said, "I'll make the coffee."

"I'll give you a hand," Mireille said, hoping to seize the opportunity to talk with Chloe and reassure her in the semi-private kitchen area.

Chloe headed for the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, "I can do it by myself."

Mireille felt herself frown at Chloe's rejection. She still followed. Once in the relative privacy of the space she whispered to Chloe, "This is difficult for you. I want you to know-"

"There is no need for you to say whatever you're trying to say," Chloe interrupted calmly, but at full volume. She visibly forced herself to show Mireille a small smile. She then said, "We can't have coffee without something sweet. I'll get biscuits... or a cake."

Mireille reached out to cup Chloe's shoulders, ready to try again to get through to her. "Chloe, listen-"

"I expected this." Chloe raised her chin a bit, and said, "She came here for a reason."

Mireille shook her head and began to plead, "Chloe-"

"I've been sitting too long. I need to take a walk," Chloe said, calm and assertive about the matter. "I'm going to the bakery." She pulled from Mireille's hold and left the kitchen.

Mireille watched as Chloe left. She snatched Mireille's handbag from the billiard table and swung around the corner toward the door, visibly speeding through the several steps that brought her within Kirika's vicinity. Mireille closed her eyes as she heard the apartment door close.

# # #

"You told me to stay away." Kirika's voice murmured from her spot near the window. "I couldn't. I'm sorry."

Mireille sighed. She slipped from the kitchen to approach where Kirika stood. "I didn't want you exposed. Things are dangerous again. I'm sure they've seen you by now. I didn't want you at risk."

"That explains your nose. And why you have so much concealer under your left eye. And those bruises under your collar..." Kirika turned from the window to face Mireille. "But that isn't why you told me to stay away. It isn't what has Chloe so obviously upset. And it isn't what has you upset either."

Mireille shook her head. "I think you're reading too much into things. I just wanted to keep you safe. I thought you wanted a new life." Mireille huffed, "I went to great pains to find a place they couldn't see you."

Kirika stepped from the light of the window to roam the apartment, overtly scanning, as if to catalog what had changed since she left. She paused to eye the new sofa and then continued her inspection. "I won't lie to you," she started. "I'm... not happy for you. A-And I feel like I'm supposed to be. I feel terrible."

Mireille felt her eyes turn from Kirika toward the relative nothingness in the center of the room. In reading her former partner's unspoken cues, she felt she had confirmed the direction the conversation was headed and knew this would be difficult. She procrastinated, asking, "What do you mean?"

"Chloe."

Mireille decided to ease the tension by downplaying her involvement. "We've grown more tolerant of each other, sure. It's not what you think it is-"

"In the sunlight from the window, I saw the shine of your lip gloss printed on her face. She had strands of your hair tangled into hers." Kirika recounted the observations with analytical precision. "I lived with you for a year. I know your scent well... and it was all over her." Her voice stayed flat as she concluded, "It is what I think it is."

Mireille felt her cheeks redden. She had overlooked Kirika's professional acuity and now felt embarrassed under the close scrutiny as though she had been caught, found out for some wrongdoing. But she also realized that Kirika's findings revealed an objective depiction of just how intimate she had allowed herself to become with Chloe and the picture that account painted made her heart feel light, even in the tense situation of the present.

"And you seem... happy."

Mireille realized too late that she was smiling. She understood Kirika's pain by the sound of her words. She brought herself to contact her former partner's eyes. She felt her smile fade. She gulped; a reflex to keep herself in control as her consciousness now flooded with maudlin echoes of the year she had shared with the girl.

Kirika turned away. She said, "Our whole time together, I couldn't make sense of what we had. I had no name for it- nothing to compare it to." She turned back to face Mireille and continued, "When you never wrote back was when I realized we had something that no one else could. And I also realized how badly I ruined it. It wasn't fair for me to give you an ultimatum." She closed her eyes for a moment as if to compose herself and opened them again. She added, "And then when I finally heard back from you I thought there could still be a chance."

Kirika contacted Mireille's eyes again, sniffled and continued, "I came here to-" She paused and started again, "Now I understand why you came to the Manor, and what was so strong that you forgave me for every wrong I'd done to you. I know now what we had." Kirika's eyes glazed with imminent tears. "You could have saved yourself so much trouble and left me to that fate. But you didn't. Even though I deserved it."

Mireille's chest hollowed. She knew she would not be able to restrain her own tears for much longer; the sense of loss she had spent so many lonely weeks taming had now overtaken her. Seeing Kirika, again, and so upset undermined her ability to think clearly. She wrested control and raised her sardonic shield as she said, "Well, I happened to be there for a tour of the vineyard. A coincidence, really. I wandered off from the group and I'll admit: things got out of hand." She smiled and added, "But I'm glad I ran into you when I was there."

Kirika eventually returned the grin.

Mireille could see she had lifted both their moods a little with her satire.

Kirika turned away and said, "I see you put a sofa over there."

Mireille looked to the piece and said, "The place seemed empty I guess. I bought a lot of stuff- Too much." She stepped over to the couch and seated herself. She leaned against the armrest closest to the windows. "I'm practically out of money from buying so much."

A few silent minutes later, Kirika joined her, taking the opposite side. "Mireille?"

Mireille turned to Kirika, expecting more.

"I'm a fool for this, I know... but I have nowhere to stay tonight. I don't have a lot of money for a hotel. I had this idea about how things would be if I came back and i-it... it isn't going to end up like I thought it would."

Mireille tried to keep the implications of Kirika's statement from her mind. Before she could overthink the matter and make her former partner more uncomfortable than she already seemed, she responded, "You'll stay here, of course. It's not safe anywhere else."

Kirika responded with a nod, still looking to the center of the room.

Many moments passed in uneasy silence.

Breaking the quiet, Kirika said, "You were the last one." She sniffled once and continued, "The last one to touch her. We've both killed so many, but we never had to deal with the aftermath... not the way you did. You were strong."

Kirika sounded on the verge of sobbing as she said, "I couldn't do anything but cry. You closed her eyes. You carried her and laid her out. You made sure her outfit looked nice, you straightened her hair- I could see how difficult it was for you, but you stayed strong and made sure she faced heaven with dignity- if only heaven would take the likes of us."

Mireille felt her eyes water as she relived the moments by Kirika's account.

"You did that for me. You did it because you knew it was what I wanted." Kirika hunched forward, stifling a sob.

Mireille took a deep breath, trying to control her own imminent tears. She felt her mind already searching for the perfect quip of sarcasm to diffuse the mood and provide escape for them both but she quelled the thought, seeing the impulse as disrespectful to the memory, no matter how the present day had twisted it into invalidity.

"Now I wish that was me instead; to have you look over me and tend my body when I passed." Kirika huffed a tiny half-laugh and added, "Maybe that's what brought her back- So that she could properly thank you."

Mireille felt herself smile. She shook her head. "I don't think she really remembers anything."

After a moment, Kirika asked, "When did she... come back?"

"Not long after she died I'd guess. She just said she woke up at night. A few weeks ago she came to me, barely alive; starved, filthy, looking like she crawled all the way here."

Mireille heard Kirika swallow. "What did she say? When she found you?"

"She wanted me to forgive her." Mireille near chuckled as she recounted, "To think her biggest worry was that I wouldn't- She didn't seem to realize that she was barely alive." She paused and added, "I brought her back here and nearly put her down as soon as I got the door shut."

Kirika remained silent.

"Obviously, I didn't do it."

"Obviously."

Mireille continued, "I saw a lot of you in her. I saw a lot of both of us. At some point I started to believe her when she said she came back for a reason." Mireille drew a breath and sighed, "And now, I see that she was right."

"And what is that reason?"

"We were supposed to be Noir."

"No." Kirika shook her head. "No, that's not true."

"She thinks it is. I'm finding it hard to prove her wrong."

After a moment Kirika asked, "Does she say anything about me?"

Mireille smirked. "Not a lot. She does forgive you though, even if she won't say it out loud right now- I know she does."

"She kissed me once," Kirika blurted.

Mireille was unsure how to react. She recognized that the sentence riled a touch of jealousy with no clear focus. She waited for Kirika's thought to continue.

"We were bathing." Kirika's voice stayed flat as she recounted, "I could tell she was disappointed after. I didn't care." Kirika closed her eyes and added, "Then you appeared a short while after that and... you already know the rest."

Mireille turned away, toward the window and nodded.

A few moments passed.

"I'm... I-," Kirika started and faltered, her struggle to say what followed obvious. "I was wrong, before- at least partially."

"What about?"

"If she can be happy at last... then I think it's a good thing." She added, "I can be happy for her."

After a few minutes of quiet, Kirika said, "This is a very nice sofa. It must have cost a lot. It's very comfortable."

"It's going to be your bed for at least a little while." After a moment Mireille added, "I never thought I'd see you here again- It's not how I imagined either." She looked to Kirika, contacting her eyes. "But it's still nice."

Kirika gave a slight smile; perhaps as tacit agreement, Mireille assumed.

# # #

The clack of the apartment door locks signaled Chloe's return. Mireille's thoughts re-centered and she felt sudden relief, knowing that she was back, safe. She watched Chloe step from the apartment's entrance toward the kitchen with Mireille's purse hooked in her right elbow and a cake box balanced atop her right palm. She vanished into the kitchen for some minutes and then reemerged with coffee cups, a stack of saucers, and silverware. She proceeded to set three places at the table, seeming to ignore Mireille and Kirika as she busied herself with the preparations.

Mireille rose and approached Chloe, trying to read her partner's mood. "You were gone for a while. I was starting to worry."

"You shouldn't," Chloe said flatly as she placed silverware at each setting. She departed the space and headed into the kitchen.

Mireille sighed, took her place at the table, and waited; now thinking about how much more difficult her life had become during the last hour. Kirika came back; seemingly ready to cultivate a relationship that neither of them admitted they had until they no longer had it. She played-out the possibilities in her head: If only she had been able to give up the business when Kirika begged her to, if only she had responded to Kirika's early emails, if only Kirika had simply come back sooner. She decided to stop punishing herself by cataloging missed opportunities as none of it could help her in the present.

Chloe was her present, she knew- and how fun it was to be with Chloe, thought Mireille. Chloe liked the business- she lived for it. She was vibrant, affectionate, sometimes playful; just happy to be alive- not crippled by pathos or remorse amid the duties of her calling. Mireille knew Chloe's return was a miracle; perhaps intended solely for her, and she had no intention to squander it. She realized that earlier she had found the line with Chloe and they had crossed it. Memories of the passionate moment left her wondering how much further they would have gone.

She looked up from her reverie to see Chloe seated on her left and Kirika to her right, both glowering at their steaming cups of coffee. Mireille looked down to her own drink understanding that Chloe must have placed it, along with a slice of cake, while she had been lost in reflection. She decided to occupy the other two as she found their tense silence unnerving.

"This is a lovely cake you bought."

Chloe said plainly, "I know what you like."

"Yes, you do." Mireille smiled, waiting for Chloe to acknowledge her.

Chloe's eyes contacted Mireille's and she returned the look with a demure smirk.

They both turned as a clank came from Kirika's place. She picked up her spoon and stared, appearing to critique it.

Mireille suppressed a grin. She looked to her own setting and confirmed; Chloe seemed to have had one of her off judgments and laid out serving spoons instead of tea spoons. Mireille poured a dash of cream into her coffee and used the oversized spoon to gingerly twitch the drink into a smooth mixture without spilling; trying her best to show that Chloe's unusual choice was fine- a demonstration to preclude scrutiny of her girl's faculties.

"Kirika will be staying here," Mireille said, lifting her cup for a sip.

"Yes. Of course. It's an uncertain time," Chloe said before bringing her cup to her lips. Her eyes darted sidelong to Kirika for a moment and then centered again on the cake in the middle of the table. "Perhaps I should go with you this afternoon."

Mireille shook her head. "We agreed to meet alone. I'd like to show him that I can keep my word. We're more likely to get his cooperation."

"Yes, of course." Chloe nodded.

"You're leaving... to meet someone?" Kirika asked. She sniffed her coffee and gave a slight frown before putting the cup down.

"In a little while, yes."

Chloe said, "They expect us to carry out their orders without question. But we question everything."

Kirika's face sagged as she asked, "The Soldats?"

"They are not Soldats," Chloe snapped. She took a sip of coffee and said, "We're Noir... the true Noir. We are the true Soldats, not those corruptors who cling to the name for its power." She placed her coffee cup on its saucer and used her oversized spoon to scoop a bite of cake from her plate. Her tone turned acidic as she looked to Kirika and added, "... and we're certainly not apostates."

Kirika looked to Chloe for a moment and then to Mireille.

"Chloe," Mireille started. "I have to leave in less than an hour. I'm counting you to make sure nothing happens here." She waited for Chloe's eyes to lock onto hers before continuing, "I'll be back before eight. I'll bring dinner." She added, "I'll bring home one of your favorites."

Chloe smirked. "You know what I like."

"Yes, I do."


	7. Austerlitz and Leipzig

CHAPTER 7 -- Austerlitz and Leipzig

 

 _Chloe, ma copine_ , thought Mireille.

She had realized it when she shared a lasting look with her partner right before leaving to meet Breffort. A delicious emotion still lingered from that instant of awareness; she felt lighter, her steps seemed to spring as she walked to the Soldat rendezvous full with juvenile delight. She knew she was beaming like a fool but did not care. For the first time she had a girlfriend.

She pretended that she could live carefree like the other, innocent, normal people she passed as she walked through the district. She played the role in her head, strolling the avenue, glancing in shop windows, heading to work, and longing to see her new sweetheart later for a dinner date, perhaps a first kiss goodnight if she could again summon the nerve to try. She had missed any chance of those things in her teen years so now she clung to the escapist notion as long as she could. Her past and her business were her curse. They were also Chloe’s curse, and Kirika’s, and those of anyone else she had ever known deeper than a polite acquaintance.

_Chloe, ma petit rayon de soleil._

The permanence of Mireille’s loneliness no longer seemed absolute. With Chloe now in her life, pangs of hope, silly and pure would interrupt the stretches of desolation and paranoia like unexpected sunbeams breaking through dolorous overcast, hinting that the clouds could someday lift. Now everything Mireille felt for the girl flowed into flawless order.

_Chloe, ma petit danseuse._

She felt her heart quicken as she remembered pressing against her, feeling the girl’s sinewy ballerina’s body squirm and clutch as their lips came into line for what would have been their first kiss. The memory reawakened the same nervy tension she was sure they had shared in that jittery near-silence locked together on the floor.

 _Chloe, ma ballerine Russe chérie_ , Mireille mused, moistening her lips amidst the cool, dry wind.

She relived the sight of her partner’s stunning finale back in Val de Loire-- a lethal pirouette which severed her pursuer’s throat, ending the skirmish in a vicious arc of her lithe limbs. Her imagination embellished the scene; she pictured Chloe’s body wrapped in a white leotard spattered with red, a glistening blade in each hand, glaring back through cold, narrowed eyes, wearing the adorable semi-scowl she showed when immersed in her work.

Mireille’s thoughts strayed into more salacious territory as she imagined pulling and peeling the dancer’s togs away to strip off the stains of combat and expose the raw beauty of Chloe’s devoted, dangerous self. She felt her heart accelerate further cherishing the memory of Chloe’s unique scent; a faint, complex musk; sweet and almost peppery like honey and hazelnuts. She resolved to make sure Chloe knew how she felt without the clumsy ambiguity of words. She decided to pick up a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on her way back home to honor Chloe’s one time wish, even if it had been in jest.

Her romantic daydreams halted.

She saw Breffort’s car stop across the street from where she waited. She approached the silver sedan and the driver got out and circled the vehicle to open the rear passenger door. She peered into the back to verify Breffort was alone as agreed. With a glance, he beckoned and she slid inside to join him. The driver closed the door and soon the car’s interior warmed from the autumn chill before the vehicle reentered the bustle of late afternoon traffic.

Breffort seemed stiff as he said, “We cooperated before and it went well. I hoped that we could do business together again someday.”

Mireille mentally shifted gears to focus on business. She kept her distrust private and upheld a neutral facade. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how forthcoming you decide to be.”

“Ah.” Breffort nodded. He clasped his hands around the top of his cane. He seemed hesitant, as if holding something back, but eventually asked, “And then how forthcoming do you intend to be?” He gazed toward the window and elaborated, “You’ve decided to allow Chloe to continue to exist. You have everyone surprised. You seem to be the only one that doesn’t want that lingering little ember snuffed out for good.”

Mireille nearly flinched at the shock of his openness. Of course she knew that people wanted Chloe dead-- there were certainly some who wanted both of them dead-- but hearing Breffort’s indifferent malice toward her impish partner-- her girlfriend-- angered Mireille on a primal level. She remained collected and professional, opting to plainly assert, “That won’t happen.”

“Yes. It’s too late for that, isn’t it?” Breffort paused and continued, “The two of you seem to have put aside all differences. You’ve been seen together all over Paris: shopping, dining, sitting at parks and fountains... You’ve become far friendlier with her than any of us anticipated.” After a moment he added, “But I’m not surprised by it any longer-- I’ve figured out what makes her so important to you, why you’re trying to keep her so close. I understand now what you long for, what you desire.”

Breffort’s last sentence caught Mireille off guard, seeming to strike into personal territory. She felt a twinge of offense at whatever private scenario he may have been implying-- it was none of his business and beyond brash to highlight it.

Now riled by his candor, she steered the conversation to her own purpose and drove right to the point of their meeting. “One of your people claimed that you’re my greatest danger right now. If that isn’t the case, you can best prove him wrong by keeping honest with me about your plans and sparing me your commentary on my personal life.”

Breffort turned to face her. He raised his brows, asking, “Again I ask; will you be honest about your intentions as well?”

“I don’t recall stating them.” Mireille heard her tone starting to sharpen. She kept her face neutral as best she could.

“You have-- Through your actions. News makes its way quickly; especially when it’s about Mireille Bouquet and her new flatmate. I was told that you claimed she was no longer capable of hurting anyone, no longer a threat... and just days later, I’m told that her handiwork has been found in the wake you left yesterday.” He turned away from Mireille and added, “I’ve also received word that the other was spotted arriving at De Gaulle this morning-- It’s obvious what you intend to do, what you want.”

Mireille wanted to react to the ridiculous accusations of conspiracy but instead kept her face clear of expression and looked to Breffort, saying nothing. She hoped to elicit more by giving him an empty space into which he might keep talking and perhaps a chance to divulge more of what he thought she already knew.

“Your family has been revered for ambition and shrewdness for over a century.” He spoke toward the car’s side window, adding, “You used me to meet your goals, to reach the Manor. You deceived me. I know your true desire; you had no noble drive to rescue your partner or simply stop Altena-- You aimed all along to steal her power. Now you’re finalizing that plan.”

Mireille’s sense of amusement had been riled. She fought hard not to smile as she considered his absurd conclusions. She waited for more; now positive that the Soldats leadership feared her greatly-- so much so that they over-thought the whole matter; seeing Machiavellian strategies that had never entered her mind, revealing their apparent respect for her ingenuity and the ambitiousness of her lineage. The notion of her renowned menace to them became more satisfying the more she considered it-- she had struggled to build that type of repute and now that work seemed to have paid off.

“Those two as your left and right hands would seal your power just as it would have for Altena. And it will not be allowed to happen... This is too great an upset.”

Mireille now saw an opportunity. She decided to go with the absurd premise and use it to steer the situation. She smirked and said, “The way you put it... it sounds so unsavory.” She offered, “There could be an alternative to this conflict.”

Breffort nodded. “And that’s why you chose to speak with me.”

Mireille then knew she had lined up everything the way she wanted. She gave a slight grin. “Shall I be blunt?”

Breffort paused and then returned the polite smile. “I’d prefer it.”

“Did you send those men after us yesterday?”

“No.”

“So it was Garnier?”

Breffort’s smile broadened. “He contacted you? Here?”

“By proxy, yes. Then we met him.”

“Well, that explains what you were doing in the valley yesterday. Did you meet his wife?”

Mireille hesitated, slightly arrested by the specificity and tone of Breffort’s question. “Yes.”

“Did she speak to you?”

“She greeted us at the door, exchanged a few pleasantries.”

Breffort’s cheeks rose. He puffed a half-chuckle and asked, “Nothing else? She didn’t genuflect at your feet? Offer you frankincense? Bow her head when speaking your name? Kiss your hand?”

Mireille smirked. “She stopped just short of that, I think.”

“She has never been known as suave or subtle. She is a bore and a sycophant. She’s gotten through life quite well despite those shortcomings-- Her family has controlled sizable assets for generations.

All of that wealth quickly got her a husband; one that her family approved of. He was nobody-- and still is. Though he probably thinks himself formidable he’s little more than an actor; a handsome face that says what he’s been told to say, appears where he needs to be seen. She has him completely under her thumb. If Franck Garnier reached out to you, it was at her insistence.

Along with the rest of us, she had a keen interest in stopping Altena... but she was brash, too tactless and overt about it, so she must have known that she and her oaf of a husband would be some of the first to be eliminated if the Grand Retour ever happened. I expect she’s hoping to be part of it now, seeking the protection and status that would follow. She must have had him lure you so that she could assure herself a splendid introduction.”

Mireille began to better understand the situation. Breffort’s account of the pair seemed to explain some of the inconsistencies found in her own research prior to their rendezvous at the mansion in Centre. The Soldats accepted that she and Chloe were Noir and that notion swayed their foundation and had opened a broad divide among their ranks. Breffort and the old guard stood clearly opposite Adele Garnier and her husband, no doubt followed by others. Mireille knew the unstable climate held new opportunities for both her and Chloe, but could not recognize any obvious next steps.

She sustained her outward indifference and shook her head. “Actually, he wanted me there for something very specific, not to curry favor.”

“They had a proposal for you?”

Mireille huffed. “They thought they did, but I didn’t like it... But he also passed something to me-- something from Altena.”

Breffort showed a half smile. “Of course.” His face conveyed a crafty, amused mirth. “Honestly, I’m disappointed that they have so easily manipulated you.”

Mireille’s stomach sank a little. She second-guessed herself, wondering what possible chicanery Breffort was seeing that had escaped her notice. She took a moment to digest the information, to try to use it to decide better who their biggest threat truly was.

She pondered, if Adele Garnier thought the Grand Retour happened and desired to have Noir as a powerful ally then would she allow her husband to hand over something so potentially disruptive as the keys to Chloe’s family? Or did she see it instead as an offering to show good faith, to share privileged information? What if everyone expected that Mireille would take Altena’s place and the letter would help cement that fate?

Or what if Franck Garnier was acting alone; trying to undermine his wife’s intended plan? Could that have been another, more devious reason for him to pass that information one-on-one; not so much apart from Chloe, but outside the view of his controlling wife? Could he be using them to get his hands on her family’s wealth? Mireille thought further, could he have been making an attempt to buy her trust for his personal advancement? To gain status rather than money?

Mireille shook her head. She said, “Nobody manipulated me.” She bolstered her assertion, adding, “If they had, I would have killed you yesterday.”

Breffort sighed. “They asked that of you?”

“He offered me a contract on your life.”

He smirked. “Why haven’t you gone through with it?”

Mireille felt herself gloating as the natural answer to the question came out. “I already said it: You’re alive right now because I saw through their plan.”

“So, you trust me more than you do them.”

“You’ve given me no reason not to so far. Though you’ll understand if I’m suspicious about all of what you’re sharing with me.”

“You asked me to be forthcoming.” He paused for a moment and then posed, “If I asked you, would you take care of Garnier and her husband?”

“We aren’t interested in your squabbles.”

“I’ll spare you the indignity of admitting this, but I know your resources are exhausted. If you do this for me, I’ll make sure you’re adequately compensated.”

Mireille smirked and shook her head.

“Think of this as a treaty. Think of it as remuneration for the suffering you, your family, and those girls of yours endured at the hands of that madwoman.”

Mireille folded her arms and said, “She wasn’t entirely mad. She was lucid enough to see the Soldats had become the very scourge that they originally fought to end. She looked at the likes of you and knew that only a total purge would set things straight.”

Breffort sneered with obvious offense. “I will not be judged by you nor some woman who tortured children and deigned to call it God’s work.” His expression softened a bit, apparently reigning in his temper, embarrassed by his own outburst. He swallowed audibly before saying, “There were other saplings... not just you three. Ask your partner what happened to those girls. Ask her their names. Ask her how many-- The soil of the Manor was soaked in blood long before you set foot on it.”

Mireille’s mind began to run astray with Breffort’s notion and what it implied. My Chloe, she thought. Trials. Chloe was the last one standing-- She must have spent her whole childhood fighting and eventually killing off the rest just to survive. She felt hollowness spread inside her ribs as she accepted that, indeed, Chloe’s childhood had been far worse than her own. Mireille felt obliged at that moment to bolt out of the car, run back to her, wrap around her, comfort her, spoil her, protect her-- anything to offset the indelible horrors the poor little soul had surely faced as everyday happenings.

She felt uncomfortable identifying herself with Noir. The earlier thrill of being the Soldats’ nightmare had begun to weaken. She fought against a rising sense of dirtiness, deceit; the creeping shame of exploitation. She forced the unpleasantness aside to focus on the task at hand. Altena was gone, she reminded herself. There was only Mireille, only what Mireille would allow. She explained out loud, “I’ve changed the rules.”

After a moment Breffort huffed, asking, “You think you can? You think it’s that simple?”

Mireille felt herself glower at the insolence of his question. She relaxed her expression and kept her tone businesslike as she stated, “I think we’ve both said all that we needed to say. I’ll contact you again if I need anything else.”

Breffort looked forward and nodded, seeming to meet the driver’s eyes in the mirror.

The car pulled to the side of the road and Mireille waited for the driver to open her door. Before slipping back into the chill of the evening, she said, “You’re wrong about me. Perhaps you don’t believe me-- but you’re wrong.”

He caught her arm as she started to slide out of the car. “Then we should cooperate. You don’t need to do everything alone. Caesar had allies. So did Napoleon.”

Mireille gave a half smile. She imagined the warmth of Chloe tucked into her embrace. She smiled broader. “Thank you, but I already found someone to help.”

Breffort closed his eyes for a moment to nod and return the smile. “Then I wish you the best of luck... again.”

“Thank you.”

# # #

On her way home, Mireille stopped to pick up dinner for the three of them. Now after sunset, she made her way up the stairs and entered the apartment. The dim stillness of the place became unsettling immediately. She sensed something wrong but dismissed the too-quiet atmosphere considering all of the dramatic events that afternoon; the notion of Chloe and Kirika suddenly chummy seemed far-fetched. She continued toward the kitchen to drop off their take-out supper and stow the bottle of wine she had made a special detour also to pick up on the way home.

When she reemerged into the living room, she looked to spot the others, perhaps sitting in opposite corners of the near dark space, and grew more alarmed as she found neither. She scanned the surroundings and noticed a chair on its side, a pillow missing from the couch, and a dent in the plaster below one of the windows. She searched for other signs of trouble, her heart rate now climbing.

“Chloe?” Mireille asked, now surging with worry as she headed for the only private area of the flat. She froze at what she found.

Kirika sat on the pair of steps that led to the bedroom. She held a pistol leveled at Mireille’s chest.

Mireille’s mind whirled through every awful scenario portended by the signs of struggle and she soon simmered with anger. The base insult of the threat and the identity of the one perpetrating it darkened her heart further. She found herself speaking through her teeth. “You.” No further words came to her as growing fury at the obvious betrayal caused her to discard them as unnecessary. She felt her jaw clench harder as she asked, “What is this?”

Kirika gave no reply. She maintained her menacing aim.

“Where is she?”

Kirika said slowly, “Behind me.”

Mireille heard her former partner’s words as defiance, a challenge to try to get past her. She took a step and Kirika raised the muzzle to center on Mireille’s face. She halted as she saw Kirika’s finger take up the slack in the trigger, bringing the weapon to the brink of firing.

She stayed frozen, off balance, mid-step, facing the barrel of the Sig Sauer she had gifted to Chloe. She closed her eyes and allowed her head to bow forward to better preserve her equilibrium. She muttered toward the floor, “She had better be alive.”

After an excruciating moment, Kirika answered, “She is.”

Mireille’s relief caused her anger to refocus and grow. She swiveled her eyes to lock onto Kirika’s from beneath the edge her brow. She grumbled, “Well, thanks to this idiotic stunt dinner is getting cold.”

Kirika remained stone-still, her face unreadable as typical.

Mireille lifted her head further. “This is ridiculous. What are you doing? What is this about?”

No response.

Mireille’s impatience got the better of her, exacerbated by her instinctive resentment at being threatened, restrained, controlled. She lashed out, defying the menace, “You can’t hold that trigger forever. Either release it or pull it all the way back.”

Kirika lowered the muzzle to point more at Mireille’s chest. Her finger eased and released the trigger but remained poised to fire.

Mireille softened her tone, now hopeful that she could make further headway in the standoff. “What’s this all about?”

Kirika said nothing. She maintained her cold stoicism.

Mireille tried to imagine what could have been going through Kirika’s mind that led her to this level of psychopathy. She wondered: could it be jealousy? It had pushed Chloe past the point of reason at the Manor. Could it simply be anger? A broken heart? To have come all the way here only to have your hopes dashed; that could be enough, Mireille thought.

“Noir,” Kirika whispered.

“What?” Mireille began to think that Kirika had plunged so deep into fugue that she was beyond reach. She almost seemed to have reentered that robotic mental state Mireille had found herself facing when confronting her at the manor.

“I won’t let this happen-- There won’t be any Noir.”

Mireille slowly relaxed her pose.

Kirika did not react, seeming to allow the shift.

“Kirika,” Mireille started, softening her tone further to try to ease more tension from the standoff. “What are you... what went wr-- Why are you threatening me?”

The girl did not respond.

“Kirika?” Mireille swallowed, her thoughts now running away again as she feared what other actions her dangerous former partner might have taken. “What happened to Chloe?”

Kirika’s hand reacted at the sound of the question. The muzzle of the pistol re-centered on Mireille’s face. “She isn’t allowed to speak.”

“What?”

Kirika seemed to struggle to say, “I’m doing this for you.”

Mireille paused, caught by sudden understanding of Kirika’s indiscreet mission. She decided to try to explain, to convince Kirika of her misjudgment. “It’s not the same. Noir isn’t what They want any longer. It’s what I want it to be.” She decided to use inclusive language to diffuse the situation further. “It’s what we want it to be.”

“You’re wrong.” Kirika’s voice was sudden and strong. “We thought we stopped it. We didn’t. We couldn’t... It isn’t what we thought it was. Everyone thinks it’s a pair of maidens who commit sin upon sin to purify the world-- But it’s just an awful infection. It’s vile, horrible, and it’s got you. It’s taken hold.”

Mireille shook her head at the notion. “Listen to yourself--“

Kirika interrupted, “You caught it from her. She got it from Altena. Now it’s making you fool yourself into thinking you have control over it-- But you can’t control it. No one can. It’s controlling you. You’re losing yourself to it.”

Mireille instantly frothed at the girl’s audacity. She released her anger in an unrelenting flow, “You tell me about control? With everything we went through... You trusted me through everything and now you think you can educate me? You have to point a gun at me? You think you can tell me about control? About free will? You?!”

Kirika blinked more than normal as though gusts flowed from where Mireille roared her outrage.

“You haven’t been in control once in your entire life. You never had to make a name for yourself. You didn’t build your own business from nothing-- You’ve never done anything on your own! You’ve always had Them behind you, making sure you succeeded.” Mireille could see Kirika was about to break. She recognized the opportunity and struck hard, saying, “And then you suddenly found a conscience... and expected me to just drop everything. And when I defend my choices, stand up for what I’ve built, you... you just leave me-- alone. You didn’t even try to understand what I want, what I need, how many times I’ve been abandoned.” Mireille huffed, “You came back here just to do it again? To take even more from me? You have the gun... Why don’t you just take my life? Or do you enjoy watching me suffer?”

Kirika’s face twisted with visible anguish. She opened her mouth to retort.

Mireille denied her the chance, assailing further, “You’re jealous. Admit it-- you feel cheated. In the end you didn’t have what it took to be Noir. You’re an excellent killer-- but it takes more than that. Altena knew it. You’re unreachable. You’re useless alone-- That’s why she had you seek me out in the first place--”

“Mireille!” Kirika squeaked, interrupting. She appeared to be on the verge of tears. “Listen to yourself... This isn’t you anymore. She did this! Chloe did this to you! She tried to turn me against you. Now she’s turned you against me, against yourself, against everything you used to be. She’s poison! She poisoned me. She poisoned you! How else could this happen to you in just a few weeks? Are you really one of them now? How can you... after all of this? How can you let them win? They’ve finally defeated you, Mireille!”

Mireille stopped, caught off guard by Kirika’s words. She tried to find a way to refute them but felt a sob arrest her breath, blur her vision as she began to recognize truth in what had been thrown back at her.

“You went all the way there and saved me from her. I’m trying to save you. Stay away from her. Noir is all that matters to her. She can’t let go of it. It’s infected you too.”

Mireille closed her eyes. “That’s enough,” she muttered, beaten, broken, ready to concede to some of Kirika’s ideas. She felt Kirika’s hands gently clutch around her elbows.

“You found a safe place for me. We can find another place like that... a place for both of us. We can go away together. Please... we can escape all of this for good. You already know how to do it--”

“I said enough!” Mireille shouted. She felt Kirika let go and retreat. She knew Kirika was right-- Noir had taken hold of her for certain. She could no longer bear the pain of hearing about her failure, her unwitting betrayal of her every principle.

Mireille wanted to just collapse but she remained upright.

Chloe, she thought. She realized that she could hear Chloe’s muffled cries. She opened her eyes and pushed past Kirika to enter the bedroom. She spotted Chloe’s folded form on the floor in the pocket of shadows next to the bed. She crouched to touch Chloe and reached for the lamp on her nightstand to dispel the dark, to better see her.

To Mireille’s relief, the girl appeared uninjured. Her forearms were tied tight behind her back with a pair of stockings. Her ankles were bound together as well. A black scarf had been tied around her stuffed mouth. Tears seeped from the corners of her clamped eyes.

Mireille fought with the knots and after much frustration managed to free her. She untied the scarf gagging Chloe and pulled the rest out of her mouth.

Once freed, Chloe scrambled away, seeming to shrink from Mireille’s presence. “No. Stay away,” she cried.

Mireille sank onto the floor, still warm from where Chloe had lain captive. Chloe was right to reject her, Mireille knew.

She closed her eyes as she resumed her painful confrontation with the truth. She knew that she had been the ideal host for the voracious parasite called Noir. Her drive for power, so strong that she forsook vengeance to obtain even more; her ambition, her senseless will to be on top-- All evidence that the scourge of Noir was deep inside her for more than a decade, feeding, gnawing at her until all that could remain could be a dead husk at its ugly command.

Mireille heard Chloe blubbering and sniffling from behind the bed, whispering pleas, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to infect you. I’m so sorry I came here.”

Drawn reactively to the girl’s distress, Mireille crawled around to find Chloe compacted in the corner of the room between the foot of the bed and the closet. “It isn’t you,” Mireille said. She realized the dejection of her own voice as she struggled to shoulder the burden of her newly-realized shame. “I had it long before we even met each other.” She sighed, “I’m the one, not you.” She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them to bury her head.

She stayed like that for an unknown length of time, listening to the jagged breaths and sniffles of her partner’s upset. She no longer trusted any of her impulses as she now saw each coaxed her closer to oblivion. Her downfall, her failure would be inescapable.

After some time, the distraction of a presence at her side made her conscious of her aching back and legs, possibly from hours of cramped, ascetic immobility. She knew it was Chloe.

Mireille drew a breath as she decided to confront her own ugliness head-on. “Marya Tomilin,” she said, raising the topic bluntly before Chloe’s inevitable affection would have her craven weakness win once again. “That’s your name. You were born in Siberia, in a little place bordering northern China.” She swallowed and added, “Your parents, your brother, your sister... That’s where they are.”

Mireille could hear that Chloe’s breathing near-stopped. It was the only reaction to the news she had dreaded to share. Knowing the point of no return had been broached, she gave all of the details. “I have a letter from Altena. I have photos of them.” She felt her closed eyelids bulge a bit with tears as she tried to apologize, saying, “I kept this from you. I won’t pretend there’s an excuse.”

She heard Chloe shuffle to stand and then leave her side.

Mireille recognized the consequences of her inherent evil and accepted the abandonment as her just penalty. The solitary life to which she had condemned herself made more sense now than ever-- A self-imposed quarantine to keep any other soul safe from her unsavory maneuverings.

# # #

It felt like hours had passed. Mireille lifted her head and surveyed the dim surroundings. Neither Chloe nor Kirika were within direct sight. She coaxed her body into rising from the cramped position. She looked to the bed and found what she recognized as a Chloe-shaped lump completely hidden, curled beneath the covers. She wanted to drop onto the bed and envelope the girl, cling to her until the pain went away. Instead, she cleared her throat and offered, “I’m sorry.”

After removing her jacket, she reached inside and retrieved the evidence of her failure. She set the paper and photos on her nightstand. She said softly, “I’d like to help you find them... if you’ll let me.”

She turned and went to the closet to stow her jacket and retrieve a blanket and pillow for Kirika. She took what she thought she needed and left the space to enter the living room, ready to face her shame and try to apologize for her beyond-cruel outburst.

Kirika stood at the rightmost window, where the orchid they nurtured used to get its sunlight. Mireille could see Kirika’s outward gaze reflected from dim light inside against the glass. She spotted Chloe’s pistol made safe, resting on the dining table more than a meter away.

Mireille placed the blankets and pillow on the couch and then crossed the room to approach her former partner. Once stopped behind Kirika’s back, she hesitated; unsure of her next steps. She decided not to let herself be drawn by impulse and took a moment to calculate her actions. Although difficult, she decided that open honesty would best serve both of them to recover from the devastation of one of their rare, emotionally charged conflicts.

She reached to rest her hands on Kirika’s shoulders. She gripped gently as she said, “Please... never touch her again.”

Kirika bowed her head and resumed her stare toward the outside.

Mireille swallowed and said, “You’re wrong about her. She’s more innocent than me or you. She’s been victim to each of us.”

Kirika turned. Her cheeks shined, streaked by tears. She murmured, “Mireille...”

She pulled Kirika in close, deciding to apply what she had been lucky to learn from Chloe; to communicate clearly and without words. She latched her arms around the other, squeezing, drawing in a breath. The familiar perfume of Kirika’s hair roused memories which sent Mireille nearly to tears. The gentle caress of Kirika’s hands across her back sent her to the edge of composure. Mireille fought a sob and said, “Forgive me.”

Kirika’s palms continued to soothe Mireille’s back for a few moments more and then she pushed as if to get away.

Mireille loosened her embrace and allowed the retreat. “I said terrible things. I didn’t mean them. I was...”

“You meant all of it... And you were right.”

Mireille swallowed. “Can you forgive me?”

“You always forgave me,” Kirika whispered as she stepped past Mireille, heading toward the couch. She unfolded and spread the blankets along it as though preparing to settle in for sleep.

Mireille walked over to help.

Kirika turned to her presence and whispered, “Mireille?”

She waited for the rest.

Kirika’s sustained pause made it obvious that the words did not come easily as she said, “You are perfect for her... And I think she could be perfect for you. I-I’m happy for both of you.”

Mireille released a defeated, chuckling sigh at the sentiment. She shook her head. “It’s far from perfect.”

Kirika offered, “She’ll forgive you. I’ll bet she already has.” She added, matter-of-factly, “After you left, she talked about you non-stop.” Kirika gave a slight smile and said, “The things she said, the way she said them... I could understand how she feels: You’re the sun, moon, and stars to her.”

Mireille felt her breath stolen for a moment, humbled to hear such a thing out loud. She huffed, knowing well that the rift between Chloe and herself was entirely her own doing.

She could not find any words she felt comfortable saying in the situation. She forced a smile to Kirika and left, heading to the bedroom to attempt to reconcile with Chloe. As she made her way up the pair of steps into the bedroom, she tried to find the right thing to say.

She halted at the side of the bed as she found Chloe sitting on its edge, mincing all of the photos with scissors.

Chloe paused, looked up to Mireille’s presence for a moment, and then resumed her destruction of the images of her family.

Mireille stood and watched the pieces fall, adding to the pile of confetti on the floor in front of her nightstand. She blamed herself for the tragedy of Chloe’s rash actions, knowing if she had just come forward with the news from the beginning none of this would have happened.

She gazed down, watching the last fragments of paper stop raining. At last the snipping sounds ceased. Mireille heard Chloe slip from the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, sadness obvious in her tone.

Mireille shook her head. “You don’t have any reason to be--“

Chloe interrupted, her agitation evident, “You trusted me to a task and I failed you. I allowed her to trick me, to defeat me again... I am sorry. If I didn’t let... this wouldn’t have--”

“It’s my fault,” Mireille asserted. “All of this is my fault.” She continued to stare at the shreds of photo paper in the floor between them. “You should be angry with me, not her, and not them.”

“They don’t exist any longer. Everything is better.” Chloe ended her sentence with a small, tense smile.

Mireille closed her eyes. “No. It’s not that simple...”

Chloe’s tone turned firm, bitter, “I did what you should have done when you found those.” She added, “It’s what I would have done if I were in your place-- I wouldn’t allow something so obviously false as this to exist, to turn into something that could come between us.”

Mireille shook her head. “It isn’t false. Did you see your father? Your sister? It’s obvious that you’re related.”

“I don’t have to worry about that any more-- I got rid of the problem since you seemed unwilling to.”

Mireille looked up to lock eyes with Chloe. She defended herself out of reflex. “Why do you think I kept it from you? Why do you think I couldn’t bring myself to tell you? Ask yourself why I’ve been struggling with this ever since I found out.”

Chloe said nothing. She stayed locked in a severe stare for what seemed like minutes.

Mireille realized that she had been smashing away at something already broken. She closed her eyes. She admitted, “I’m sorry-- I-I have no control anymore.” She recalled what Breffort told her about the other saplings. “You don’t deserve any further abuse from me... or anybody. I’m sorry.”

She heard Chloe shift and pass by her side. Then her right wrist was captured and tugged from behind.

She opened her eyes, swiveled, and followed Chloe’s guidance into the bathroom. Once inside, Chloe released her hold and closed the door.

Mireille assumed she wanted the privacy afforded by the only room in the apartment with a door. She braced herself to rightly absorb the anger she could tell she was about to receive judging by Chloe’s stern, cold expression and tense silence.

Chloe reached to Mireille’s top and lifted it to pull the garment up, over Mireille’s head, and free of her body. She then unbuttoned her own shirt and tossed it to land on the floor next to Mireille’s.

Mireille swallowed as she noticed several bruises on Chloe’s shoulder and left arm. There was a deep red scratch along her right forearm. Her loss to Kirika must not have been given easily, Mireille concluded.

Then Chloe drew in closer to unfasten the waist of Mireille’s slacks. She pulled the pants down past Mireille’s hips and slid them to bunch around her ankles.

Mireille stepped free of the pants and became aware she was breathing heavily. The previous air of anger between them had dissipated to be replaced with tense energy. She reached to unfasten Chloe’s jeans and helped her wriggle free of them. She tossed them onto the growing pile of their discarded clothing. She pulled Chloe’s tank off next, leaving her partner bare except for a pair of socks and underwear.

Chloe sustained her serious countenance as she leaned in to reach behind Mireille and unfasten her bra. She pulled the garment free and tossed it over her shoulder.

Mireille felt herself blush; suddenly self-conscious as she stood almost naked in the spotlight of Chloe’s businesslike leer. She decided to shed her last scrap of clothing and slid her underwear down her legs to toss them aside.

Chloe followed suit and removed the last of her coverings.

Mireille locked onto Chloe’s eyes and leaned in to close the small distance between them. She ran an arm behind Chloe’s back and drew closer, reaching for her mouth with her own.

Chloe dodged the move and stepped back, seeming to reject Mireille’s advance. She slipped from Mireille’s grasp and stepped behind her.

Mireille stayed half frozen where Chloe had left her, trying to understand the other’s expectation. The sound of the shower jetting into operation came from behind her. After a few moments, she heard the reverberation of the falling water change. She turned to see Chloe standing under the spray. Her eyes beckoned through the rising steam beyond the still open door to the stall.

Mireille began to understand. She stepped in and joined Chloe beneath the hot cascade then pulled the door closed, crowding them in together. After a few moments amid the steam and hot water, Chloe’s hands guided Mireille to turn around.

Mireille soon felt the caress of her partner’s fingers spreading velvety lather down her shoulders and along the outsides of her arms. She felt herself smile both for the sensation and her own understanding of the significance of Chloe’s most sacred ritual-- Mireille knew it was her turn to be absolved and purified.

Chloe’s hands cleansed further, firm, gentle as they rubbed and glided. Mireille happily complied and assisted throughout the intimate ceremony, raising her arms when needed, parting her legs, eventually steadying herself against the frame of the shower door to lift each sole as her partner’s slow, deliberate actions made sure to leave no part of her without the touch of lather or languid caress.

Mireille turned to face Chloe again. Her body had been piqued by sensual cupidity. Her heart raced. She now beheld her darling Russian ballerina girlfriend: adorable, soaked, and grinning back at her. The sight propelled her limbs into action. She reached around Chloe and drew her against her soap-slickened skin. An electrified tingle scintillated throughout her when their bodies glided against one another as they collided and coupled.

Chloe closed her eyes and tilted her head back making her incitement to be kissed obvious.

Mireille answered the invitation. Beneath the cascade of hot water, she clamped her partner’s slippery body to her and touched her lips to Chloe’s. She felt the girl’s arms lock around her as she continued to use her mouth to mutely profess her adoration. She moved forward until she had Chloe gently pressed between her body and the unyielding stone tiles of the shower wall.

She squeezed her right thigh between Chloe’s and felt her partner’s mouth relax and open, conveying fervent submission to the momentum of Mireille’s desire. She slid the back of her hand down the top of her thigh and eased her fingers into the place where their bodies touched the tightest.

Chloe’s mouth broke from hers. The girl strained her head back, gasping. Her fingers scraped and dug into the back of Mireille’s ribs, as if pleading for her to continue.

Mireille continued her casual caress until she heard a few soft moans escape from her partner. She acted on that cue and focused her fingertips on their goal.

In moments Chloe clung tighter as she released a series of jagged, strangled grunts. The girl then shivered and her body went limp.

Mireille held Chloe tight and kept her steady as they both panted and gasped.

Chloe’s head rested heavily on Mireille’s shoulder. She folded and tucked her arms in as though burrowing to hide within Mireille’s encirclement.

They remained like that, half covered in soap, breaths heaving amid the steam, as their hearts calmed and slowed together. Mireille still tasted the acrid sweetness of the peppermint soap that lingered on her lips from their long, sudsy kiss. She rested her cheek against the side of Chloe’s head and stroked the back of the girl’s soaked mop of hair as she waited for the throb of her own physical tension to ebb and melt into a dull red contentment to match her emotions.

After they had rinsed and dried together Chloe picked up their clothes while Mireille toweled her hair dry. They changed into their nightclothes and climbed under the covers together to settle into bed.

Chloe draped her body along Mireille’s left side, resting her head on her shoulder. Her lips grazed the nexus of Mireille’s neck and collarbone to place occasional, gentle kisses as they cuddled in the still and dark. After a few more kisses, she whispered, “I belong to you.”

Mireille then felt Chloe take and guide her right wrist, directing her palm to rest on her upturned lower back. “This body belongs to you.” She placed another kiss on the side of Mireille’s neck.

“Thank you,” Mireille whispered.

Chloe’s toes traced the side of Mireille’s calf. Her fingers smoothed across the shirt that covered Mireille’s stomach. She placed another kiss on the side of her neck and said, “You don’t need to.”

Mireille felt herself smile. “I do.” She elaborated, “You cleansed and purified me.” She angled her head to place a kiss on Chloe’s forehead. “You finished the ritual that I started when I first brought you here. It was wonderful, thoughtful.”

“I want...” Chloe started, her voice unsteady with apparent embarrassment. “I didn’t... I-I want to satisfy you.”

Mireille tightened her hold on Chloe and admitted, “You are satisfying me-- You’re giving me what I want most right now.” She inhaled deeply and then released the breath. “Chloe, my girlfriend.”

Chloe responded with her body, snuggling closer.

 _Chloe, ma copine,_ thought Mireille.

 


	8. Ex and Wye

CHAPTER 8 - Ex and Wye

Mireille woke, saturated with lazy peace. Her heavy head and sluggish, overwarm limbs meant the long overdue rest had been deep and restorative. She stretched and awakened further to realize the presence lodged against her left side was Chloe's pillow, seemingly installed as a placeholder. She opened her eyes to confront the issue of her partner's unexpected absence and found the room full with the brightness of late morning.

She rolled onto her left side and planted her right hand atop the rumpled bedding where Chloe belonged. The void made her mind stir with speculation and blame. She wondered if she had acted too rashly, moved too fast; she could have overwhelmed the girl, frightened her away with her selfish, immodest aggression. Recalling that Chloe had retreated from her first advance Mireille now considered she may have overlooked the significance of that rejection.

She then realized her long-suppressed insecurity had gotten the better of her. She swallowed back the self-disappointment and forced the irrational theories aside. She was no longer alone, she reminded herself.

Last night had left nothing in doubt. She had, in every sense of the term, a true significant other in her life. The memory of Chloe's declaration - her affirmation that her body and soul belonged to Mireille - made her previous fears seem even weaker and pettier than before.

She deduced that Chloe had simply gotten up much earlier and perhaps kindly sneaked away to let her indulge in some overdue extra sleep. She chided herself for getting worked-up about the matter and admitted that, as always, her attachment to Chloe had reduced her to comical, adolescent irrationality.

She untangled herself from the covers and slogged through the ritual of straightening the bed. Before going to greet her girlfriend and make sure she had a sufficient breakfast, she spent a few moments in front of a mirror and tried to brush her improperly dried hair into presentable order. She leaned in closer to scrutinize the ugly blue-brown crescent under her left eye and the lingering swell at the bridge of her nose. She groaned and felt herself deflate, thinking about how awful she must have looked for Chloe in their most special moments. Her self-critique halted as she caught notice of Kirika's gaze reflecting back from above her shoulder.

"She went out. She left a while ago," Kirika informed in her customary subdued chant. "She asked me to tell you in case you woke before she came back. She didn't say how long she would be out."

The news restored some of Mireille's previous unease at Chloe's absence. She felt sure that the girl could keep herself safe, but the situation seemed out of order, un-Chloe-like- she had never gone anywhere without her since their surprising reunion weeks ago at the café.

Kirika's mouth shifted, affecting the indifference of her expression into a slight smirk. "I wasn't expecting her to even look at me after yesterday but she acted like everything was fine, like nothing happened- like we were old friends."

Mireille relaxed a little, figuring that if Chloe did not seem visibly upset when she left then there was no reasonable need to worry.

Kirika then asked, "Did things work out between you? Did she forgive you?"

Mireille could not suppress her grin at the unwitting understatement of Kirika's question. She knew that for better or worse, she and Chloe had together reached the summit of physical closeness. It had been a milestone for Mireille and she felt certain it had been Chloe's first time as well. She gave a vague answer, trying to prevent deeper exploration of the sensitive topic. "We eventually reached an understanding."

Though a ridiculous notion, she felt that anybody could tell the new state of her virtue just by looking at her. Her whole body seemed to blush when she recalled Kirika's acute senses and feared the other had already found some real, tangible hints and knew what had transpired. She tested the situation, asking, "Our bickering wasn't too loud, was it?"

Kirika's shoulders twitched upward a centimeter, transmitting a barely perceptible shrug. "I was exhausted from my flight and everything else yesterday. I must have slept through it."

Mireille felt her skin cool to a normal state, somewhat relieved by the plausibility of Kirika's answer. Still, she wondered if she was telling the truth or lying to spare her mortification. She chose to accept Kirika's statement as true and hoped the combination of the closed door and din of falling water kept private any inadvertent outbursts that she or Chloe could have released during their soapy tryst.

"You hardly ever used to smile." Kirika's voice subtly broke with an easily missed near-mirth as she added, "Now you smile all the time. I'm not used to it..."

Mireille then realized that she wore the doltish, involuntary grin that seemed to sneak onto her face ever since Val de Loire. She felt her cheeks color further; caught, and now self-conscious about her overt vulnerability and unprofessional lack of poise. By abashed reflex, she turned away from Kirika's scrutiny and headed for the bathroom to brush her teeth, make her face, and complete preparing herself for the day- but mostly to escape further awkwardness in the company of her former partner.

Ten minutes into Mireille's ablutions, Kirika appeared in the open bathroom doorway. She remained there, silent and still.

Mireille could tell that Kirika wanted something, was trying to talk with her. Recalling the near-violent standoff from the night before drove her to dodge the other's attempt in order to avoid another skirmish or some other inevitable upset. She focused on her makeup; hoping to appear uninterruptible, concentrating hard on her last morning rituals so as to catch up with the rest of the world, now well into the middle of its day.

After some time, Kirika said, "You accept it. You've become used to it, haven't you- her being alive."

Mireille felt herself halt, taken off-guard by the statement. She deflated a little as she realized that unlike most people, Kirika knew well how to force her into reaction. She set down her tube of concealer and reflected on the idea for a moment. The topic had been on her mind for weeks but she had never had anyone she could open up to about it. She indulged her needs and addressed it gingerly, saying, "No. Not really..." She shook her head slightly as she rolled the notion through her mind a bit more. "It still feels unreal."

She resumed dabbing the liquid makeup under her blackened eye, concentrating on better blending the edge of the cover-up with the rest of her cheek. As she waited for the creamy paint to dry, she added, "But it's something I'm thankful for. Her life is a gift. And so is yours." She added, "I'm glad to have both of you."

In her peripheral vision, Mireille saw Kirika's body language change from motionless stoicism to a subtle squirm. Kirika seemed unsure as she said, "I feel that way too." Her voice lifted as she added, "It's a miracle."

Mireille released an amused huff. "Perhaps. But do you think any extraordinary measure would be taken to keep any of us out of hell a moment longer than necessary?"

Kirika's tone was humorless, matter-of-fact as she replied, "She was dead. She came back. That doesn't happen unless it's a miracle."

"I used to think that. I spent days wondering about it when she first appeared." Mireille smiled, adding, "I had no choice but to confront it - The little phantom was always right here next to me." She started to work on her hair, styling it into well-dressed order as she continued, "I did some research and found that throughout history there have been several accounts of people mistakenly pronounced dead- even by credentialed doctors. We could have easily made the same mistake.

People can be in a rare, deeply catatonic state where they don't respond and don't show any of the usual vital signs even though they're still alive. Some of the stories tell of them having the horror of waking in a morgue or even in their coffins not long after being buried. There have been patents for coffin bells and such- because it has happened to people; it can happen." Mireille smiled to herself and quipped, "She's lucky that I left the shovel in the back of the Range Rover that day- and you're lucky because with my shoulder in the shape it was in, I would have made you do all the digging."

Kirika stayed quiet, looking down; as usual frustratingly unaffected by Mireille's wit.

After a moment Kirika offered, "Or she did actually die... and then she was sent back because it wasn't her time yet. Maybe that's what happened in all those stories you read. Maybe the doctors weren't wrong. Maybe they were just facing something they could never explain: intervention from a higher place."

"Well, she doesn't seem to have any idea what happened either... so let's assume the answer lies somewhere in the middle. If we want to remain philosophically honest about the un-provable then the correct answer will always depend on who's asking the question." When she decided that her hair looked good enough she set her brush down, smirked and said, "But I can't bring myself to say it isn't miraculous."

The discussion brought Mireille back to that special afternoon after she had finally brought herself to reply to Kirika's email. She recalled the first, timid attempts of Chloe's fragile body to connect with hers as they lay together in that atmosphere of awkward pleasance, neither willing any longer to be alone.

Mireille confessed, "Sometimes I feel like she's not telling me everything. But it's unimaginable, what she's been through- It must be difficult for her." She added, "I won't pry. I don't need to make things any harder for her than they already must be."

"You're all she has. She will tell you someday. She was sent back for you," Kirika started to show a smile. "And now that she's back, you're different. You're softer, more patient- it's because she makes you happy."

Mireille huffed, "Patient? You're saying that after my meltdown last night?"

Kirika replied, "Yes, especially after yesterday. I've watched you. Whenever you talk to her, the way you say things to her; it's a whole other side of you. I always knew that side was there but you never shared with it with me." She shook her head and said, "It should make me jealous. I never knew how to make you happy... not like she does. I take happiness away from you."

Mireille cringed, witnessing the hurt that she had caused with her ham-fisted words the night before. She suppressed her instinct to escape the uncomfortable topic with a plucky, dismissive retort. There had to be deep pain beneath Kirika's stolid exterior and Mireille felt that nothing would be gained from reopening that door. She forced herself to stay silent and put away her makeup, brushes, and lotions. Then she headed past Kirika into the bedroom to change.

Mireille began to shed her sleep ensemble and the other politely turned away. She slipped into fresh clothes and straightened out remaining details of her appearance. She paused at the mirror to scrutinize her un-concealable flaws and released a sigh. Kirika had changed, she knew. This new, talkative, more manipulative Kirika wanted something- something Mireille knew she would have to refuse to give. On top of that complication, she had to face the reality that her bank accounts were all but empty and she now had another person to provide for, at least in the short term. She continued to stare at her reflection, now searching; looking into herself for the strength and ingenuity to meet each one in her growing list of challenges.

Kirika's voice interrupted her thoughts, blurting, "I can help you with Chloe."

Mireille felt a quizzical expression capture her face, stunned by another of Kirika's provocative non sequiturs. She turned to the other, hoping for some elaboration.

Kirika said, "She's not well."

"What do you mean?"

"She's confused about things. She's... erratic, she's clumsy- She isn't well."

Mireille felt a protective instinct take control. She defended Chloe, explaining, "She's still recovering. She was practically ruined when she came to me. But she's come a long way. She's very determined and she'll overcome whatever might have happened to her."

Kirika shook her head. "I know you want that to be true. I wish it was true too... but it isn't."

Mireille clenched her jaw, hearing the insistence of Kirika's contradiction. To hear someone speak of her girl like that struck deep and touched a nerve so sensitive that it proved impossible to ignore. She restrained her tone as best she could, asking, "So you've only just recently spent a few hours in her company and you're qualified to make such assumptions about her progress?"

Kirika gave a stern rebuke, "I actually know what she was like before. And I'm telling you that she's not right, not whole."

Mireille felt a swell of pride as she revealed the truth for Kirika's examination, saying, "She and I fought side by side just a couple days ago- And we won. Her tactical mind is sharp. Her speed, her reflexes are amazing. Her skill with a blade is as lethal as it ever was. Her grace, her precision- they'll be back in no time."

Kirika closed her eyes and opened them again as if trying to quell an outburst. After a moment, she spoke again in her usual well-metered monotone, "We used to spar for entire mornings... and it was a challenge; she was always a tough opponent. Yesterday, I subdued her in a few minutes. It was easy.

And maybe I didn't kill her, but I damaged her. I broke her permanently. She's like this now because of me."

Mireille looked away, feeling Kirika's point seemed irrefutable. Still defiantly hopeful, she half-muttered a concession, "Maybe she's a little different now... It doesn't mean she's broken. Of course she's changed a little because of everything she's been through." She added, "The parts of her that I need work fine."

"What about those spoons? Is that a mistake a well person would make?"

"She was just trying to keep potential weapons off the table," Mireille responded. "She was being thorough about safety- She hasn't ever hesitated to use knives or forks when we're alone."

"You're good at making excuses for her. You don't need to. We can both admit the truth."

Mireille absorbed more of Kirika's critique, knowing it had some points of accuracy.

"You shouldn't have to bear the whole responsibility of keeping her. It's only right that I should share that with you."

Mireille shook her head. "I've been looking after her just fine by myself."

Then it dawned on her what Kirika was really asking for: inclusion. She understood that perhaps she had been missing the real motive for Kirika raising the topic- along with her many out-of-character attempts to converse that morning. She took some time to revise her thoughts, to find a way to let Kirika preserve her dignity, to let her know she was indeed wanted and welcome, and to find a way for it to be both as feasible and genuine as it deserved to be.

Kirika broke the silence, blurting, "If you really want to look out for her, you'll keep her out of Noir."

Mireille shook her head. "That's-"

"I'll be your partner again," Kirika interrupted. "Take me instead." She swallowed and added, "I don't mind... no matter how close you are with her- It won't be a problem. Really. I just want to make sure both of you stay safe."

Mireille's thoughts froze for a moment as the notion made sense when seen through the summery haze of nostalgia. The fact that the proposition would enhance Chloe's safety made the offer even more enticing.

She shook off the feeling, knowing the devastation such an arrangement would cause no matter how sensible it might seem- even as a temporary, tactical measure. She swore never to do anything again to hurt the already abused girl whose honest devotion she was lucky to have earned- Chloe had pledged herself entirely and Mireille knew she had sworn to honor that promise through intimate, inviolable rites.

She shook her head. She set her feelings aside to let her practical half take over and manage the situation. "You wanted out of the business. What you're suggesting is the exact opposite. I don't think you're thinking clearly."

After a moment, Kirika seemed to shrink, her hopes visibly dashed by the exposure of her flawed logic. "Yes," She said. "Now you have her- I can't expect you to make room for me. You shouldn't have to."

Mireille's throat tightened. Her eyes threatened to tear. The new Kirika seemed to know well how to tug at her strings, Mireille thought. She tried to find the composure to say what she thought; to tell Kirika that it would be okay for her to stay.

Kirika's countenance lifted a little. She said, "Last night, you were right: I've never done anything on my own. And this is fate making certain that I have to."

By the pitiable trace of martyrdom in Kirika's too-detached voice Mireille recognized permission being given, further guilt being laid upon her. She forced herself to take hold of the situation and fully acknowledge a difficult fact: another wounded orphan came to her for help, deeper in need than the first time they met more than a year prior in Japan.

She considered the persistence of Kirika's problems and how much worse they seemed than even Chloe's initial disrepair. She knew no amount of feeding or coddling would be enough bring this one around, make her whole.

Mireille smirked. Her newly acquired perspective on the matter made her feel better, more like she was in charge; understanding and accepting what needed to be done. "You have it backwards," she explained. "It's fate that brought you back here saying you want to help, to get the help you need."

Kirika looked confused, off-kilter.

Mireille continued, "I'll do anything for you that I can." She folded her arms and chided, "I begged you to hold on, to live. I didn't do that just so you could carry on being miserable." She added, "I wanted you to live because I hoped you could find happiness- And I still want that."

Kirika's face tightened as if straining to understand and accept the sentence. Her eyes reached to Mireille's. She shook her head. "I don't know if I can be happy" She broke eye contact and continued, "I don't know what's wrong with me, why I can't. Something happens... it happens whenever I least want it to. It kept happening to me when I went back, when I tried to finish school... and everything started falling apart." She swallowed. "As soon as I came back here, it happened again." Kirika seemed to lose the last of her composure as she near blubbered, "I didn't want to point a gun at you. I didn't want to hurt Chloe. I didn't' want to make you mad. I didn't want to do any of those things- I don't know what comes over me... It just happens."

Mireille knew well that Kirika's condition defied easy diagnosis. When she had heard her speak of having another self- one that seemed to be withholding things- she first suspected deep conditioning, programmatic repression: brainwashing. But after witnessing that cold, dark stare, after seeing the incongruity of Kirika's whole shifted character, she came to believe that the girl also had an underlying disorder; one that seemed to manifest itself through at least two differing personalities.

Immediately after they had returned from the Manor, she discreetly studied the issue hoping to gain some understanding and find some way to help. Her reading led her to suspect that, as in some cases, a childhood trauma triggered Kirika's condition or at least contributed to its progress. She had thought for certain she knew the distressing event that had broken her partner, but never could muster the courage to discuss it; partly afraid to reawaken the machinelike menace she faced at the Manor, but also unwilling to subject herself to the torture of facing the shared horror of their past for every day they remained together- she knew it was far easier for both of them to avoid the matter. Now with Breffort's revelation about Chloe's horrific childhood she no longer felt so sure of a specific cause. That newfound doubt lent her enough courage to confront both of their pasts and freed her to help her former partner; even discuss what had once seemed unmentionable.

She knew that Kirika could never get the help she needed from anyone else. The girl had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to, just like poor Chloe. Mireille now felt strange relief, accepting it all. She resolved to look after Kirika as well. With that inward promise she showed a bright smile to spread some optimism about what would be their new arrangement. "I'll find a way- I'll help you," she said, trying to believe it herself, will it into fact.

Kirika sniffled. "You can't. I don't know what my problem is. Neither do you."

Mireille voiced her friendly dissent with a warm and resolute reply, "Well, I want to understand it. I want to help you." She took a moment and searched for a better way to say it. She reached to Kirika with her eyes, challenging the other's dismal gaze with her own defiant show of optimism. "So, we'll figure it out." She cracked a half-smile. "Together, we've overcome plenty... how many times have we changed the course of history together? We'll overcome this too."

After a moment, Kirika nodded and then looked away. Then she said, "I need you so badly... I need to feel you next to me when it's dark. I've been aching to feel that since I left."

Mireille's sense of control threatened to falter. Her chest started to feel heavier at the sound of the other's plea. Something inside her wanted to give Kirika the exact comfort she wanted. She knew she pitied the girl as much as she had pitied her weakened, desperate Chloe. But the way she had grown to treasure Chloe meant that Kirika's stated need could never be met. She forced herself to present the hard truth, saying, "Things are different now." Her lingering guilt compelled her to add, "I'm sorry... It's just how it all happened."

Kirika nodded, still looking away.

Mireille's internal struggle with the issue urged her into explaining further, "She came to me. She found me... She handed herself to me. She... wanted me- it made me feel like I've never felt. It still does." She felt her eyes water a little as she heard her own explanation out loud for the first time. "I care a great deal for that girl." She swallowed and maintained control of herself. "I also care a great deal for you."

She lifted her tone to try to impart cheerfulness as she declared her decision. "You should stay here with us. You belong with us."

Kirika said nothing. She appeared blank, withdrawn. She turned and left the space to walk into the living room.

Mireille almost became disheartened, unable to read any reaction to her earnest proposal, fearing that she may have again let her heart hastily guide her in to troublesome territory. She watched as Kirika retreated to stand at one of the central windows to gaze into the late morning sky. After a pause, she joined her former partner in the sunny space, thinking that chatty-Kirika might be convinced to reemerge and share her feelings on the matter.

Mireille took a seat at the table nearby and considered her approach. Kirika was too fragile to be pushed into anything, she thought. She knew the process would take time and hoped there would be enough time before the next entanglement with Les Soldats. If Kirika no longer wanted to fight, then Mireille knew it was up to her to keep her clear of that necessity.

After what felt like a half hour, Kirika spoke, still facing the chilly world beyond the window. "Sometimes I feel like I've been exiled- left alone on an island to rot for my crimes."

More silent moments passed. Her body appeared to slacken and animate with emotion. Her voice nearly cracked as she continued, "But I like to think maybe I could share that island with you; maybe just live somewhere out of the way, on the other side. Just knowing you were stranded there with me would be enough, even if I never caught sight of you."

Mireille drew a breath, ready to drop some platitude that would offer consolation to her former partner but stopped before she could speak. Her thoughts raced in a new direction. Ideas sparked by Kirika's words formed connections to one another with matchless precision. She felt a plan form; the right plan- A plan for her future with Chloe; a future they could share with Kirika.


	9. Mireille and Chloe

CHAPTER 9 - Mireille and Chloe

Mireille sat staring toward her computer's display; arms folded, legs crossed, trying to contain both her uncontrollable need to see Chloe and her bursting desire to share the bold plans she had in mind for their future. Kirika had wordlessly slipped from the room minutes ago to bathe and Mireille, now in relative solitude, felt the void left by Chloe's unexplained absence all the more.

She brought her gaze down and to her right, eying the empty spot alongside her chair which had become her companion's expected, albeit strange, familiar roost. Now separated against her choosing, she understood the feeling her partner tried to describe during their southward trek into the valley- She realized that in some way it felt as though Chloe helped sustain her life too.

At last, apartment door locks snapped open and Mireille found herself already standing, teeming with anticipation. Her prima ballerina stepped around the corner and into view: satisfying Mireille's eyes, softening her mood, and robbing her ability to do anything with composure or dignity.

She tried to release some of her feelings, voice her relief, but only managed to sputter embarrassing nonsense. "I was... I- You're back-" she stopped herself from subjecting Chloe to further incoherence. The endearing imp always managed to bring out the fool in her, Mireille knew.

Chloe gave a fleeting smile in response as she continued into the living area and stopped at the billiard table. She deposited a small paper bag and then set Mireille's handbag also onto the green felt. She glanced again toward Mireille with a sheepish, almost apologetic look.

The apprehension Mireille felt upon waking alone resurfaced as she took notice of Chloe's awkwardness. She now began to fear that her irrational worries could be well-founded. The girl appeared bothered, insecure; her arms were drawn in unusually close and her neck looked too rigid.

Mireille spent most of her life maintaining a near-clinical distance between her feelings and the feelings of others: a tactic that kept her heart safe from torment; always an observer rather than an affected participant. But Chloe's feelings always seemed to sneak past those defenses- even back during their shocking reintroduction at the sidewalk cafe- and now the girl's visible disquiet elicited something powerful, almost maternal, which Mireille felt driving her to both understand her partner's problem and to find a solution.

Not sure what could be troubling her girl, she decided to use caution and proceed slowly. She tried an easy opening for the conversation, stating the obvious, "So, you went shopping."

Chloe seemed to freeze at the sound of the sentence. She rolled her lips in as if trying to stifle herself. She eventually gave a quick nod as her only reply.

"What did you get?"

Chloe's eyes flitted to the side, seemingly to avoid Mireille's scrutiny. Her mouth moved a little but she withheld any verbal response.

Mireille's concern grew with the girl's atypical loss for words so she tried again to elicit a few from the other. "Well, I hope you at least got yourself something to eat since we missed your dinner last night."

Chloe swallowed. She shook her head and looked down as if ashamed at her answer.

"You haven't eaten in more than eighteen hours- you're going to lose that little bit of fat and muscle we managed to put on you." Mireille realized she had begun to scold and stopped herself. She opted instead to say something constructive and keep her tone kind, so she presented a smile and said, "That means we can go out somewhere together for lunch- and you can make up for those missed calories with something drenched in batter and deep fried." She further sweetened the proposal, adding something she knew her properly sated Chloe would look forward to. "Once I have you sufficiently stuffed we'll come back here and take a long nap."

"That sounds fine." Chloe seemed to want to smile, but her posture remained rigid.

Mireille advanced, approaching slowly, reassessing the situation as she went. She still read trepidation in her partner and the other seemed stubbornly silent about whatever the issue was. Growing impatient, she jumped to a direct approach and asked, "What's wrong?"

Chloe looked away as if to hide her readable expression from Mireille's view. She shook her head and said, "Nothing is wrong."

Mireille's smile faded. She now felt certain that Chloe's silence had to do with what happened between them the night before. She decided the issue needed immediate resolution before any further misunderstanding could sprout from it. She acknowledged her own bashfulness about the topic and figured it was also what kept Chloe so tight-lipped, so she chose to direct the tone of discussion to a safer place; behind the façade of their profession.

She kept her voice gentle but authoritative, stating, "Keeping things secret from your partner can create avoidable danger. There should be no one you can trust more than them."

Chloe said flatly, "You kept a secret from me."

Mireille almost winced at the reply but managed to keep the reaction hidden. She faced the fact that they had never truly concluded that disagreement and decided to clear the air by explaining everything as it happened; "It was Garnier who gave that to me. My first instinct was to tell you... and I was about to- not even an hour after I first found out. It was right before we were ambushed."

Chloe gave a perfunctory nod.

Mireille reached forward to cup Chloe's shoulders, to urge her to face to her more directly. "Then things got complicated... and I got selfish." Mireille inched forward to close the remaining distance between them. "We were both so happy after... I didn't want to ruin it. I was scared you would leave."

She draped her arms over Chloe's shoulders and clasped her hands to form loose circle. Intimate gestures of affection felt gawky and new to her, but she ignored her discomposure and instead tried to refine the clumsy act into a suave maneuver. She leaned in close to bring her body into gentle contact with Chloe's and managed to choke-out the explanation, "I-I have trouble letting go of things I adore."

Chloe rotated a few degrees within Mireille's loose embrace so that mostly her left side touched the center of Mireille's body, limiting the contact between them to a narrow strip.

Mireille half-chuckled at the awkward move, "We won't worry about interruptions this time. No more complications- you can relax."

She tried to reestablish the conversation's previous course and get to the heart of her partner's obvious trouble. She sweetened her voice further to goad an answer from Chloe. "So tell me what's on your mind."

"It really is nothing," Chloe said.

"Just tell me. I'm going to keep you captive until you do." She closed her arms tighter and drew Chloe's rigid body square against her. Something with hard corners pressed through Chloe's jacket, jutting into the left side of Mireille's abdomen, surprising her with the unexpected sensation. She released her hold and pulled back. "What's this?"

Chloe seemed to deflate. Her shoulders sank a few centimeters and she appeared to resign, finally losing her apprehensiveness altogether.

Mireille observed the rectangular outline of a flat, rigid object beneath Chloe's jacket. She reached to touch it.

Chloe covered the hidden item, blocking Mireille's attempt with her right forearm as though reflexively shielding an injury. She looked away. She gulped. Her face shaded with a subtle blush.

Mireille's curiosity grew stronger. She wondered if her girl slipped out that morning to buy her a gift. The notion sent a thrill through her chest. In recent years, most presents and favors given to her had transparent, ulterior purposes- genuine gifts had been given to her only rarely. She smirked and said, "There's no sense in keeping it from me, whatever it is- It isn't hidden any longer."

After a moment of hesitation, Chloe reached into her jacket to pull out a book. Her head seemed to slump in shame as she offered it; surrendering the secreted item to Mireille.

She accepted the book and turned it around to glance at the title. She instantly felt her complexion heat and redden to match Chloe's. That same book had held her curiosity more than a few times while browsing, but she never could summon the nerve to pick it up, let alone present it to a store clerk in order to purchase it.

She swallowed. Once again, she found herself stammering, "I-It's... I mean it's not really..." She stopped further escalating her embarrassment by keeping her mouth sealed until she felt certain she could produce coherent sentences.

Chloe started to inch away.

Mireille reached out to re-center her, hold her squarely in her gaze. She tried to reassure, "No, it's okay. It's... There's nothing wrong with-"

Still blushed with visible mortification, Chloe drifted free. She circled to the other side of the billiard table. She paused for a moment to contact Mireille's eyes with an apologetic air, then turned, and sank out of view.

Mireille followed to find Chloe sitting in her spot on the floor next to the chair as expected. She had come to understand in their weeks together that Chloe enjoyed luring her and seemed very gratified just from being sought and followed.

She seated herself, assuming her usual position next to her partner, trying to bring the solace of normalcy that she knew Chloe must have been seeking given the parade of commotions throughout the past several days. She made an effort to remain patient and let the discussion unfold on the other's terms despite the heavy presence of the difficult-to-address erotic how-to manual now cloaked once again inside Chloe's jacket.

Her patience was soon rewarded as Chloe made the first move by reaching and gently grasping the inside of Mireille's pant leg.

The contact brought Mireille to look toward her partner.

Chloe gazed blankly forward. After a moment, she said, "I couldn't fall asleep last night. I wanted to... but I also didn't want to- You hardly moved through the whole night. You kept hold of me, held me close. It was the first time I had known you to be completely at peace... and it was exquisite that I could be there to see it." She continued, "As I listened to your breaths, your heartbeat... I knew peace as well. I knew safety.

Now that you want... now that we're-" She swallowed, seeming to have difficulty before continuing, "I realized that I'm..." She eventually forced out her explanation, saying, "I'm afraid."

Mireille's stomach began to sink. It seemed clear that her intuition had been correct and she had forced them both into something their relationship might not be ready to handle. She closed her eyes and said, "I'm sorry."

After a moment, Chloe said, "You've done nothing wrong. You don't need to apologize."

Mireille opened her eyes and absorbed the uncomfortable sight of Chloe's readable disquiet. She decided to set things straight by saying what was on her mind, "I do- I pushed things too far... It may have been too soon. I'm sorry."

Chloe looked up. Her eyes locked to Mireille's as she said, "I submitted myself to you, and I did so gladly- I welcome your every touch... I have no misgivings."

Mireille's mind eased a little as she heard Chloe's stalwart declaration but she knew that the issue ran deeper than her partner admitted. She showed a smile and said, "We can figure things out on our own, together. You shouldn't be up all night, afraid. And you didn't need to buy... what you bought."

Chloe released a tired sigh. She looked away. "I was to become Noir- with her. I looked forward to that for as long as I could remember. But I found myself disappointed. It wasn't turning out like I thought it would... and I wasn't sure how to handle it, didn't know what to do.

With you though, we've truly become Noir... And it really is as I always dreamed, as I always wanted." She paused and then offered a meek confession, "But I'm even less prepared this time than I was before." Her body leaned against the side of Mireille's calf. Her fingers crept up to rest on the top of Mireille's thigh. She caressed through the twill of Mireille's slacks as she said, "I never trained to be a girlfriend; I never fully understood that would be part of it all, but now I see it would have to be- There can be no pairing closer than the true Noir." She swallowed. "I'm... I'm outclassed by you in many ways. This is yet another. I'm worried that I won't please you... and you'll have to find what you need from someone else."

Mireille closed her eyes and said, "That's nonsense."

Chloe's tone remained grave. "Now everything is perfect and complete- Except for me, except for my part." She rested her cheek against the side of Mireille's knee. "And it crushes me that I disappointed you- That I'll disappoint you again and again."

Mireille shrugged off the notion. "You haven't. You won't."

After a moment, Chloe said, "I think it is too sudden. Too sudden for you- That's why you mention it."

Chloe's idea brought Mireille to question herself. Had she done it to satiate her own desire? To control the other? To coerce Chloe into a firm attachment? Or even to prove to herself that Kirika could never have been to her what Chloe had become?

Her heart began to accelerate a little. She relived the fleeting moments of their coupling: she remembered Chloe's slippery skin gliding against her own, she tasted the delicious essence of Chloe's kiss among the suds, she recalled Chloe's arms clamped around her, she reminisced of sounds of Chloe purring, her stifled grunts, her shuddering as her body released at the command issued by Mireille's fingertips- she knew that nothing more than honest, innate lust for her girlfriend had been her driving force.

She reached out, laced her fingers into Chloe's burgundy locks, and ran them through in a firm caress. "I have no regrets either," Mireille explained. "I want to know that I'm not making you... that you're not doing something for my sake."

"Everything I do is for your sake," Chloe said plainly. "You must do everything for my sake or I wouldn't be here, alive." She added, "It is who we have become to each other."

Mireille smirked, amused by the elegant simplicity of the facts as Chloe stated them. She quipped, "I suppose that means we make a perfect Noir then."

"She was only half-right yesterday."

"What about?"

"She said that Noir is all that matters to me- That isn't the case." Chloe clung tighter around Mireille's leg as she continued, "Even now, I remember your face from the final moments of our fight. As I charged closer to finish you, I saw you weren't afraid; you weren't even angry like I was. Instead, you were strong, ready for me, defiant; willing to let me try to take you because you already knew I couldn't. Even if I had cut you into quarters I could never win against you- Your face said that.

You came there without any intent to kill; you knew you could have everything your way without having to hurt anybody. You had authority, power- you were born with it. Among the three of us it was obvious- you were in charge.

In that instant, I saw myself differently. I understood that I had been bettered. I recognized who the strongest sapling really was: You found your way there, you came to get something, and you would not let anything stand in your way, even the best of Les Soldats- and you faced all of it by yourself.

You had never needed anyone's help. I realized that was the reason she had chosen you over me... and rightly so.

That had me captivated- you had me captivated. The entire world shrank to just you and me for that moment. And I felt ashamed. I felt like a rank upstart. I wanted to turn and hide, but my momentum kept me going forward, toward my fate. I felt like I was already defeated.

I didn't see her coming.

It stung white-hot. Everything went dim. It hurt so much I couldn't move. Then the heat turned to ice. It put my body to sleep. My mind was eager to follow, to escape the agony. I finally understood the mistakes I'd made... I wasn't sad any longer. I let go. Everything went dark. Then I felt warm all over; I felt relief and calm; a sort of bliss."

Mireille fought to keep her escalating emotions under control. She hated to think of Chloe's agony, she hated to relive another moment of explicit tragedy in her mind- she hated the waste of it all. As much as she disliked the details of Chloe's tale of misery a part of her thirsted to hear more; eager to understand as much as possible. She knew that if Chloe wanted to talk, then to reveal her own upset would deny the girl her needed outlet. She maintained her composure.

In a gesture that felt inexplicably second-nature, she leaned a little forward and reached to caress the back of Chloe's neck and shoulder as she patiently waited to see if her special girl wanted to share more.

Chloe looked up and showed an appreciative smile for the offered affection.

Mireille grinned back and gave another supportive stroke, completing the silent conversation, knowing that she had wordlessly given what Chloe most wanted.

Chloe's eyelids sank shut. Her voice seemed a little sleepy as she continued her account. "It was always peaceful there at night, but it was too much so when I woke. I was all alone- I could feel it- but I searched for you anyway. I hoped to find some trace that would help me find you, reach you. I had to crawl; my body wasn't cooperating. I felt too drained to move. It seemed to take a long while, but I found the trail of bodies that you left and I followed it.

It ran far and it ran deep; into places I was never allowed to enter; places considered too sacred, as I remembered. I found shelves of quires I had never before read, I saw tapestries so faded and arcane I didn't recognize their motifs, and I pulled myself past altars stained with the wax from countless thousands of candles.

I stayed hopeful though; the sconces in the corridors down there were still burning- I knew it hadn't been that long. I followed their light deeper. Everything was so unfamiliar that I was no longer certain where I was. I wondered if I was a ghost; I wondered if the bodies I passed had souls that had been freed but mine was trapped, doomed to stay alone in that old, dead place. As I went farther I felt even weaker; I kept having to stop, to rest.

Finally I had come to a place where I knew your touch had been heavy. I found brass from your gun. I found a few of your hairs snagged in a crevice of the flagstone. I started to feel stronger.

In that place was a body- one of one of the acolytes. I knew her face but no longer knew her name. I saw the beauty of a perfect, merciful wound in the center of her chest. I knew it had to be from you."

Chloe clutched Mireille's leg tighter as she twisted and fussed with her free arm to pull something from a front pocket of her jeans. She produced a patina-hazed disc and gave it a fond smile as she exhibited it for Mireille's scrutiny.

Mireille recognized the medallion's emblem immediately: the same from the lid of her father's watch; the same from the walls of the smoldering village in the foothills; the same bas relief of kneeling swordswomen that she knew to represent Noir and the Soldats.

"She had this around her neck. It lay just above that hole you made," Chloe explained. "I'd seen this everywhere, over and over again for as long as I could remember. I had grown so accustomed to seeing it that I never thought about what it meant, who they were, who they were supposed to be. I had always assumed they represented Noir.

But I realized they aren't Noir at all. They are something deeper, more timeless; something sublime- archetypes as unceasing in meaning as any other ancient deity: left and right; modern and ancient; urban and pastoral; secular and devout; spring and autumn; sun and moon... you and me.

It became my new faith. I took it. I had to have it- I could keep you closer to me; I wouldn't be alone. All the times that I was too tired to walk, I slept with you against my chest, to heal me, to protect me. You watched over me for my whole journey to Paris."

Chloe held the medal with her thumb mostly covering the relief of the shorter-haired maiden on the right half, seeming to emphasize her focus on the longer-haired depiction on the left half. "Sometimes, I would talk to you," Chloe said, her tone becoming uneven, sounding uncomfortable about sharing the details. "I practiced what I would say and the different ways that I could apologize. Some days you would accept it, some days you would reject it. On the hardest days, you would just ignore me- But I knew if I tried hard enough I could succeed and you would give me a chance."

Chloe's voice gained some strength as she declared, "Noir is not all that matters to me. It matters because it's about us, together. Noir means that we have to choose- And I want to be the one you would choose.

I realize now how inconsiderate I've been: for me, we've never been apart since that night- I've disregarded how much newer this partnership is for you than it is for me."

Mireille decided to speak from her heart and admit her fault to Chloe and to also herself. She felt her voice break a little, betraying her emotions as she said, "I've been bossing you around ever since you came to me. I've been putting my own wishes ahead of everything else- I'm the inconsiderate one."

Chloe shook her head. "You always know what to do, what needs to be done. I like that- I... I-I need that. I had plenty of time to understand my feelings. You didn't even know I was alive until a couple of weeks ago- I should have considered that you would need at least the same time I did.

Giving you what you want is what I care most about- Noir is my means to that end. If you want a girlfriend then I will not allow myself to disappoint you- I want you to feel as blessed as I do."

Mireille rose a little from her seat and gave a nudge to the chair, gently gliding it out of the way on its casters, clearing the floor next to Chloe. She sank to wrap her arms around her partner. She held her tight, stroked her back, and cooed, "You're a good girl. Of course you won't disappoint me. You're such a good girl..." She felt Chloe melt within her arms and she knew she had given the kind of appreciation that her girl most craved.

To Mireille, their souls attached and clung tight like complimentary magnets. The personal chemicals of their scents and tastes combined into mixtures both luscious and intoxicating. On every level, from animal to spiritual, she knew they paired well. She knew then that nothing had happened too soon. She embraced Chloe tighter and basked in the glow of obvious, wonderful truth- she had found her mate.

She felt the now familiar corners of the hidden book pressing between them and smiled. She half-whispered, "Save that book. Let's find some time to look through it together- soon."

She felt Chloe plant a kiss on the side of her neck.

She brought herself to release the rest of the truth in a lower whisper, "Because I don't need any more time. Because I know what my feelings are."

She felt Chloe's back heave a little. She heard a brief sniffle behind her shoulder.

Still stroking Chloe's back, she decided the time was right to share her plan. "We're going to leave Paris."

Chloe seemed to stiffen a little at the news but soon relaxed again. "Forever?"

"I think so."

Mireille felt Chloe's lips on the side of her neck again, wordlessly communicating her concordance through a small kiss. "Where are we going?"

"To Corsica; to my home." Mireille said. "That land won't lay fallow any longer- that place is my birthright... I'm taking it back."

"Yes," Chloe whispered and placed another kiss.

Mireille swallowed. She pushed herself to bring up the trickiest part of her proposal for their future. "She's very sick, you know... We have to take her with us."

Chloe kissed Mireille's shoulder through her shirt. "Alright."

Mireille felt some relief. "I'm glad you understand."

Chloe pressed forward, easing Mireille backward to lie against the floor.

Mireille felt Chloe lower and settle upon her. She released a purr as she felt Chloe's mouth capture hers and hold on through a languid kiss.

Chloe broke away after an immeasurable interval, leaving both of them gasping to catch their breaths. "You chose me- Yes, I understand."


End file.
